


Picking up the Pieces

by SilverThunder



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Missing Kings spoilers, Top!Fushimi, Top!Yata
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 56,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2755862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverThunder/pseuds/SilverThunder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A whole year, gone from his head just like that - and how many memories could you fit in that time, anyway? It wasn't a question Yata thought he'd ever have to ask, but with so many things changed between Saruhiko and himself, he wasn't about to leave it alone.</p><p>It just sucked that the new world they'd built was still so easy to break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to PT-chan, who read this whole thing over for me and offered feedback and reassurance! You are so amazing and awesome!
> 
> Warning: Explicit sexual content in Chapters Four, Five, and Six.

The world around him was made up of a jumble of vague images and sounds.

_“Yata!” Kamamoto shouted in alarm, just before something struck the back of his head with enough force to send stars shooting across his vision._

His mouth felt dry.

_Saruhiko’s expression was a strange mix of bored and vicious, eyes glinting with some emotion Yata couldn’t place. “You were always hoping to be a hero yourself, right, Misaki?”_

It was like there was cotton packed to the brim inside his skull.

_Kusanagi, sitting in an armchair beside the bed in the upstairs room at the Homra bar. His eyes were weary when they looked over at him. “I’m sorry, Yata…”_

His arms and legs felt tight, stiff from inactivity. There was a pinched feel on his left hand.

_“You’re the one who doesn’t get it.” Saruhiko again – that hateful smirk on his face. But that glint in his eyes…_

_What?_

Off to the side, something obnoxious was beeping away.

_“Yata!”_

_“Yata!”_

_“Yata!”_

_“Misaki!”_

_“Misaki.”_

_“Misaki…”_

 

* * *

 

The ceiling was white – that was the first thing his foggy, not-quite-awake brain picked up on. He blinked slowly.

Not familiar.

That pinched feeling on his left hand… Yata turned his gaze, and it felt like the world tilted on its axis. He drew in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes against a wave of vertigo.

_What?_

“Misaki?”

That was Saruhiko’s voice – Yata opened his eyes, and found it somehow difficult to focus on the half-blurred outline of his former friend. He wasn’t wearing blue. Why?

 _What are you even doing here?_ he wanted to ask. His tongue felt like it was made of lead.

Wait… where was here?

White ceiling… grey curtains… He was lying in a bed, but it was stiff and uncomfortable. The pinched feeling on his left hand was an IV.

_I’m in a hospital?_

Saruhiko’s face wouldn’t come into focus, no matter how much Yata blinked – it felt like he was moving underwater; the more he stared, the more his vision swam. It took him several tries and a ridiculous amount of effort before he managed a hoarse, whispered, “Saru?”

A cool hand closed on his; Saruhiko said something, but Yata didn’t catch it. Black was closing in rapidly on his vision, and he didn’t have time to wonder about the too-familiar contact or the oddly shaky tone of voice.

When his eyes shut again, he sank into complete darkness, without visions or vague impressions.

  

* * *

 

The next time he woke, there were hushed voices in the room.

Yata blinked up at the ceiling. His vision was still hazy, but his eyes seemed to focus. He ignored the voices for a moment, trying to catch up to his current situation.

 _Kamamoto and I were fighting a strain._ He remembered that much, at least. The man was tall and thin, and _fast_. Somehow he’d gotten behind Yata, and –

Right, the blow to the head.

It had to have been a bad one – Yata could take a lot of punishment, after all, and he didn’t think he’d gotten so much as a mild concussion from being struck before. But then again, he didn’t usually give his opponents a lot of openings.

_Wonder what happened there._

Depending on who was in the room with him, he might have a chance to ask. Yata shifted his gaze – slowly, remembering the vertigo from before – and found Kusanagi at the foot of the bed, talking quietly with… Saruhiko, again?

What the hell was going on?

There wasn’t really a chance to wonder, because almost at the same time as he’d managed to figure out who they were, Kusanagi looked over at him – and froze. “Yata?”

Saruhiko turned abruptly, striding around the bed to his side as if he had every right to be there and taking hold of his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was still not in uniform.

“Misaki,” he breathed out, and Yata could only blink at him, brain going completely blank, because that tone was so desperate, drained, and somehow thoroughly _thankful_ that it left him stunned.

Seriously, what the _hell_ was going on?

It was a little too much to take in; when he managed to open his mouth and form works, he found himself croaking out, “What… truck… hit me?”

Saruhiko’s face was even paler than normal, the dark shadows under his eyes standing out in stark contrast. Still, he managed to respond without hesitation, “A bus, actually.”

Yata stared at him, confused. “… eh?”

“Yata.” Kusanagi still stood at the foot of the bed, peering down at him with some concern. “Don’t worry about remembering the details. You still need to rest.”

“Oh…” Right, he was in a hospital, which meant his condition was kind of serious. The unpleasant, heavy feeling at the back of his head agreed with that. He let his gaze slide from Kusanagi back to Saruhiko, and then to the hand clutching his, and frowned, puzzled.

Since when did Saruhiko care enough to visit his hospital bed and fret over him? This was… odd.

“I can give Seri an update,” Kusanagi was saying, somewhere outside of Yata’s confused thoughts. “You should stay with him until he falls asleep again, at least.”

_What? Why?_

Why would Saruhiko be the one to stay?

“Wait… Kusanagi,” Yata managed, before the older man could leave. His voice cracked, but he couldn’t find the energy to mind it. The way that the two of them were acting, as if Saruhiko belonged here and nobody – even Yata – should have any questions or concerns about it, was confusing and a bit alarming. What the hell was he missing?

And how was he supposed to ask, if they were acting like nothing was wrong?

Thankfully, Kusanagi seemed to take his confusion as something to do with his injury, because he lowered his PDA, offering a reassuring smile. “What is it, Yata?”

 _Why is Saru here? Why is he holding my hand like he’s got a right to? Why are you acting like nothing’s weird about that? Why don’t you think_ I _should find anything weird about that? What the hell happened while I was unconscious?_

It was too overwhelming. Yata felt his head throb – he was probably doped up on painkillers or something, because he was sure it should be hurting like hell – and fought back a wave of nausea. “I… don’t…” All at once, he couldn’t think of what he was supposed to be asking. His brain auto-piloted to a safer subject. “What happened to the strain?”

Both Kusanagi and Saruhiko were now staring at him like he’d just sprouted a second head. “Strain?” Kusanagi repeated.

“The… the guy. With the…” What the heck power did he have? Yata struggled to pull the memory from his already suffering brain. “The… thing. He was fast.” That didn’t earn him any more recognition than his first attempt. Yata gave up. “Is – Is Kamamoto all right?”

There was a startled pause. Kusanagi’s eyes on him were suddenly sharp. “Kamamoto has been out of town for the past week.”

Yata stared at him. He was vaguely aware of Saruhiko’s hand squeezing his, almost too tightly, but it felt like something in the background. “That can’t be right,” he said, weakly. “No – we were fighting a strain together.” The event was sort of piecing together for him now – at least, more than it had before. “He was trying to hijack a subway car.”

He heard Saruhiko’s sharp intake of breath even as Kusanagi’s eyes widened; turning his gaze toward his former friend revealed a startlingly stricken expression.

_Wait, wait, wait… what’s wrong?_

“Yata…” Kusanagi’s voice was slow and somehow careful, as if he were treading on eggshells. “The hijacking happened almost a year ago.”

The moment of silence that followed that unexpected announcement felt like an eternity.

_… What?_

There was a sudden rushing in his ears, like the sound of the ocean crashing in all around him. In front of him, Saruhiko’s face went out of focus, blurring out like someone had censored it. Yata would’ve laughed at that thought if he wasn’t feeling like the ground had just crumbled out from underneath him.

“That… that can’t...” No. No way. It was impossible, right? “But – but I got hit. On the head.”

“You had a concussion,” Kusanagi agreed, evenly. “Kamamoto and I took you to a doctor, but they didn’t keep you. You spent the night at the bar, and we took turns waking you every hour. It wasn’t nearly as bad as this one, though. You don’t remember?”

None of that sounded familiar. Yata tried to shake his head and gasped at the resulting rush of vertigo. It felt like the whole room was spinning.

“Misaki.” Saruhiko’s voice was sharp – a little _too_ sharp, honestly. His fingers tightened again, almost painfully. “You need to stop. This isn’t helping.”

Yata shut his eyes and breathed, trying to work past that moment. He wasn’t sure if he felt more like puking or passing out.

_Almost a year ago…_

“I’ll call the nurse,” Kusanagi said suddenly. It sounded like he was talking from the other end of a tunnel. “Yata, just try to take it easy for now, okay? Plenty of time for questions when you’re feeling better.”

 _Answer the questions now!_ Yata wanted to tell him – but the world was already fading out.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up again, Kusanagi was sitting in the chair beside the bed, reading a book. The curtains surrounding the area were drawn, and with the small amount of dim light flitting through the space above and beneath them, it was impossible to tell what time of day it was.

Saruhiko wasn’t there, which was a relief. Yata honestly wasn’t sure if he could handle that at the moment.

“Awake again?” When he glanced over, Kusanagi was closing the book, offering him a small smile. “You didn’t sleep as long this time. How are you feeling?”

 _Like shit._ His head still felt like it was packed with cotton and weighed down with lead. “I’ll live. Probably.”

“Don’t say it like that.” That faint smile turned a bit pained. “When I got the call from Seri, I wouldn’t be surprised if I lost ten years of my life worrying. The scene of the accident looked really awful, you know – you’re lucky you came out of it with just a concussion.”

Yata stared at him blankly. “Accident?”

“Ah, right, you don’t remember.” Kusanagi set the book aside, stretching a bit. “An out of control bus crashed into the building you were in.” His expression was sombre. “They’ve confirmed seven casualties so far, and I think there are a few still in critical condition.”

 _“A bus, actually.”_ Right. Saruhiko had said that, hadn’t he? Yata frowned. “That cold-hearted woman called you?”

“She was working with Fushimi when he got the call.”

_When he got the call._

Yata’s frown deepened. “Why would _he_ get a call about me?”

There was a noticeable pause. Then, “Yata… he’s your emergency contact. You don’t remember that, either?”

 _What the fuck?_ Yata’s thoughts whirled. “Wh… Why would I make him my contact? What the hell?”

“Ah. Well, I don’t know the details,” Kusanagi admitted, smoothly evading the question. “It’s probably not my place to talk about it, anyway. I’m guessing the subway hijacking is the last thing you remember?”

“Y-Yeah.” It was hard to wrap his head around this. Yata stared at his older friend, feeling more than a little lost. A whole year, gone from his head just like that. A year in which he’d apparently become friends with Saruhiko again somehow – close enough friends to be setting each other as emergency contacts, even.

And the way Saruhiko had said his name when he woke up the second time… the concern he hadn’t bothered to hide… his expression when Yata had mentioned the hijacking...

It seemed impossible. How the hell had it happened? _How the hell?_

“I did mention it to the doctor after you woke up last time,” Kusanagi was saying, somewhere outside of Yata’s mental turmoil. “Apparently it is a little unusual, but not unheard of. They were saying it’s more likely to be specific things you’ve blocked out, relating to some trauma. This accident, maybe, or even last year’s…” He paused there, then shook his head. “Well, I’m no expert.”

A little spike of anxiety stirred up at the pit of his stomach. “I’ll get them back, though, right? My memories, I mean.”

“The doctor seemed to think so,” his older friend confirmed. “Based on the scans they ran when you were first brought in, there’s been no sign of any kind of permanent damage.” He offered another reassuring smile. “I’m sure they’ll want to check in on you some time when you’re awake, but from what I gathered you’ll probably start to remember things once you’re back in familiar surroundings.”

So it probably wouldn’t be permanent – that was a relief, anyway. Yata let out a low breath, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders ease up a bit. “How soon do you think I can go home?”

There was another moment of hesitation. “Hm, well… I guess as soon as they’re confident you don’t need to be under observation.”

“Huh.” It probably made sense – honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he could sit up right then without getting all dizzy – but it was still frustrating. Once he was back home, he’d start remembering things, right? Familiar surroundings and all? “There’s – there’s other stuff, though, isn’t there? Things I should know?”

“Probably a lot of things.” Kusanagi’s smile was a bit on the wry side. “We’ll see what the doctor says before I start springing those on you, though – it might be better for you to remember on your own.”

Yata blew out an irritated huff of breath, but let it go. It wasn’t like he was in a position to complain, anyway. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Oh, and your family is on the way here, in case you were wondering.” It came as almost an afterthought. “I’m told they were on a vacation, but they started back once they got the news.”

He couldn’t hold back a wince at that. Not that he’d object to having them around, but in the middle of a vacation? Shit. It wasn’t like they had money growing on trees. “You didn’t… really need to call them.”

Kusanagi raised his eyebrows. “I think they’d want to know, wouldn’t you? In any case, I wasn’t the one who called them.”

That was enough to freeze him up – there was really only one person he could think of who would be able to get his mother’s contact information without him offering it straight up. It was kind of hard to believe he’d actually go to the trouble, though… Hell, calling his mother at a time like this? Yata couldn’t even begin to imagine how that conversation had gone. _Why would he bother?_

Obviously, he was missing something pretty important. But how could he ask in a way that would get actual answers? “Saru isn’t here this time,” he started, a bit warily.

“Mm.” Kusanagi didn’t seem particularly uneasy with the subject. “I told him to go home – he’d been here all night, and I doubt he spent any of that time sleeping.” He gave another of those rueful smiles. “To be honest, I don’t think he would’ve gone if you hadn’t dropped that bombshell about the hijacking on us. I expect he thinks you probably don’t want to see him right now.”

That hit uncomfortably close to the mark. Yata remembered the strangely distressed look on Saruhiko’s face when he’d brought up the year-old incident, and squirmed, feeling a little pang of guilt without really knowing why. He couldn’t remember ever seeing an expression like that, even back when they were close, and the weird new behavior was confusing him more than ever.

_He was here all night!_

It didn’t seem real, somehow.

“Kusanagi.” He took in a breath, and then decided, _Okay, fuck it._ “Saruhiko and I, we… became friends. Somehow. Right?”

Another one of those weird pauses. “More or less.”

Yata frowned, a bit suspicious. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kusanagi shrugged, spreading his hands. “Well, from what I can tell, it’s a long story.” He offered another not-quite-apologetic smile. “The details really aren’t any of my business, though, Yata – I’m the wrong person to ask.”

“But _how_ , though? When? _Why_?” Yata was frustrated enough to make an attempt at pushing himself up off the pillow, and regretted it instantly when a rush of nausea forced him to flop back down. He took in a couple of deep breaths, shutting his eyes against the sudden dizziness. “Damnit…”

“Don’t push yourself,” Kusanagi lectured, with mild concern. “You should probably get some more sleep – your body’s still healing, after all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yata opened his eyes slowly, adjusting once again, and looked at his older friend somewhat balefully. “You won’t tell me anything, will you?”

“We can talk about it later.” Basically, no. “Would you rather Fushimi didn’t visit you?”

Yata shut his eyes again and let out a long, irritated breath. So, no details – he woke up, and Saruhiko was magically friends with him, and he should just accept it. That was it? Saruhiko, who he’d thought would be by his side forever. Saruhiko, who had destroyed everything between them so casually and easily, who mocked him for his loyalty and jeered at everything that was important to him. Saruhiko, who claimed to hate him and all that he stood for, but who still helped him when he was at his lowest – and then turned around and acted like he and his thanks were a disease.

Saruhiko, who somehow had the capacity to act like he’d fallen apart when Yata was seriously hurt.

_He doesn’t make any sense, seriously._

“Ah, whatever!” His head was already feeling overworked just trying to sort this all out. “That guy will just do whatever he wants anyway. I don’t care.”

“Hm, all right.” Kusanagi didn’t exactly make a comment, but it was definitely there in his tone of voice. “I’ll make sure he knows that.”

 

* * *

 

_Yata’s head hurt._

_It wasn’t the kind of soreness he was used to – strong and sharp – but more like a dull, persistent ache. He felt groggy and immobile, like when he first woke up in the morning, too lethargic to move his limbs._

What…?

_He was vaguely aware of being draped over Kamamoto’s back, and Kusanagi was talking. There were people in blue uniforms._

_“The doctor said it wasn’t serious,” the older man said, and Yata recognized the blonde hair of Awashima Seri standing opposite him. “He just can’t sleep for too long. If anyone wanted to visit him, though, they could come by the bar.”_

_Why would she want to visit him? Yata was confused for a moment, but then his gaze caught on the dark-haired figure hovering off to the side, purposefully not looking at any of them, and he thought,_ Oh.

You’re wasting your fucking time, Kusanagi, _he would’ve said, if he was conscious enough to manage words._ He won’t come.

_He never came, even after Yata had wished for it over and over. It was a dream he’d given up ages ago._

 

* * *

 

The bitter self-pity chased him into wakefulness, and when he blinked to clear the sleep from his eyes, it somehow didn’t surprise him that Saruhiko’s familiar figure came into focus at the right side of his hospital bed.

_Can’t get away from you whether I’m sleeping or awake, huh?_

Saruhiko’s eyes were on his PDA, and he didn’t look up when Yata carefully turned his head on the pillow. He was still dressed in street clothing – a plain sweater and dark jeans – but he’d taken the time to style his hair, and his expression was the familiar unconcerned and slightly bored one. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t look like they’d gotten any smaller.

“Awake, are you?” he commented blandly, without bothering to look up.

Yata eyed him warily. This was more like the behavior he was used to, but he didn’t think he’d ever forget those moments after he’d woken up the second time. “Yeah.”

“Hm.” Still no particular reaction.

The silence between them felt strangely oppressive. Yata tolerated it for only about a moment before it became too much. “What are you looking at?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, finally lowering the PDA. “Nothing.”

“Okay...” It shouldn’t be this awkward, should it? If they were really friends… Yata tried again. “Do you still make things like custom apps and stuff?”

The chair creaked as Saruhiko leaned back in his seat, shutting his eyes with what sounded like an aggrieved sigh. “Sometimes,” he responded, shortly.

The deliberately brief answers were starting to get on Yata’s nerves. _Would it kill him to meet me halfway here? I’m trying!_ He swallowed back that response, instead shifting his gaze back up to the ceiling. _If I hadn’t lost my memories, this would’ve been easy._ “I guess that’s one of those things I should remember, huh?” he mused out loud, more to himself than anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Saruhiko’s fingers clench around his PDA, but a second later it was deliberately stuffed away into his pocket. “Why should you remember something useless like that?”

 _The hell?_ Yata could feel his mouth edging down in the familiar scowl. “Are you being a jerk on purpose? If we’re friends now, I should know these things.”

“Ah, we’re _friends_ , are we?” Saruhiko finally turned to look at him then, raising both eyebrows condescendingly. “And who gave you that information? Kusanagi? Or maybe you just dreamed it up yourself, hm, Misaki?”

Instinct had him pushing himself up abruptly from the pillow. “Bast - !” The word cut off in a gasp as vertigo hit, and nausea churned sharply in his stomach. He managed to hold his upright position only by bringing up his knees and bracing his head on them, feeling the world spin around him alarmingly. “Fuck…”

There was movement beside him; Yata opened his eyes and barely caught an unfocussed image of Saruhiko dropping back down into the chair, as if he’d jumped to his feet for some reason. “You shouldn’t be moving around so quickly,” he said after a moment. There was a bit of an edge in his voice.

“Shut up! Whose fault do you think that is?” The world was starting to come back into focus, at least; Yata took the opportunity to glare. “I wake up and you’re beside my hospital bed _holding my fucking hand_ , and Kusanagi tells me you were my emergency contact, and now you’re here, looking like you haven’t slept in like a week, and you’re saying… what? We’re not friends? What the fuck are we, then?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, turning his gaze away deliberately. “Figure it out yourself,” he muttered.

Yata stared at him incredulously. _What the hell?_ “I’ve _lost my fucking memory_ , you asshole! How the hell am I supposed to figure anything out if you won’t tell me what happened?”

He got another sharp ‘tsk’ in response, and then silence.

_I seriously can’t handle this guy, what the fuck?_

Yata’s head was starting to throb – it wasn’t painful, but it felt like his energy was slowly being drained, and that made it hard to stay angry. Was he really going to find out that Saruhiko had become his friend again only to lose whatever they had immediately? It didn’t seem fair, when he couldn’t remember enough to know why it was going wrong. “You’re always like this,” he mumbled, before he could think it through, and inwardly winced at how childish it sounded.

_One stupid head injury, and I’m acting like I’m five years old or something. Fucking hell._

“If it bothers you that much, I can leave.” Saruhiko pushed himself out of his seat without even waiting for a response. “This is pointless anyway.”

“You…” Yata grabbed his arm without pausing to think about it, feeling his eyebrows come down in another glare. “Stop being a jerk! I never said I wanted you to go! And what exactly is the big deal about just _telling_ me where we stand? I didn’t lose my memory on purpose or anything!”

Saruhiko wasn’t looking at him; his eyes looked like they might have been wavering, but it was hard to tell if it was just Yata’s poor vision or not. “It’s pointless,” he repeated, voice deliberately flat and even. “It won’t mean anything if I tell you – I might as well make something up.” He clicked his tongue again, grimacing. “It’s better if you just pretend nothing changed.”

 _Is this idiot even for real?_ “What the hell are you talking about? How is that better?” Yata tightened his grip, trying to ignore the pounding of his head. He wasn’t sure if anger was the best thing for his current condition, but whatever. “My memories will come back anyway, so – ”

The muscles under his fingers tensed, and Saruhiko turned his head, startling him out of that thought. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was tight. “Who told you that?”

Yata blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden switch in the atmosphere. “Kusangai told me that’s what the doctor said.”

Something shifted in that gaze – Yata couldn’t place it, but it stirred up a little ache in his chest somehow. Without bothering to reply, Saruhiko abruptly dropped back into the chair again, pulling his arm from Yata’s slackened grip.

 _Seriously, what the hell?_ “I don’t get you at all.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, not looking at him. “Why would I need you to ‘get’ me? You’re too annoying.”

“ _I’m_ annoying? You’re the one who’s being a total pain the ass right now!” Yata studied him a bit warily. His gaze still wasn’t returned, but he hadn’t really expected that. He wasn’t any good at reading Saruhiko’s expressions, although he’d once thought himself an expert on his best friend’s moods. “Are you going to actually answer me? Are we friends, or what?”

There was a short moment of silence, and then Saruhiko shut his eyes, let out what sounded like a frustrated huff, and answered, “We live together.”

That was not what he’d expected. Yata blinked. “Eh?”

“You heard me perfectly well.”

“What the fuck? Are you kidding me?” He couldn’t help but stare, completely stunned – and a little suspicious. “You’re not actually kidding, right?”

“What would be the point of making something like that up? Quit acting like a moron.” Saruhiko made another sharp ‘tsk’, scowling at him darkly. “We have a two bedroom apartment three train stops into the city.”

“ _Two_ bedrooms?” Yata repeated, unable to keep himself from sputtering. There was no way. What the fuck? “How the hell am I affording the rent on a two bedroom apartment?”

“You’re not. As if you could.” Saruhiko raised his eyebrow condescendingly, folding his arms. “I pay two thirds of the rent, and you do all the chores.”

Yata opened his mouth to ask when the fuck he’d agreed to do _that_ again, and –

_“The hell, Saru? Did you borrow my toothbrush?” He stared at the offending item in agitation. “That’s fucking gross, cut it out!”_

_“Considering where your mouth has been, I don’t think you have cause for complaint.” Saruhiko straightened his uniform jacket, clearly unmoved. “Besides, it’s a pain to have to stop at the dorms before going to work.”_

_Yata scowled at him, shoving the toothbrush back into its holder. “Why the hell don’t you just move all your stuff_ here _? You’re over all the time anyway.”_

_Saruhiko frowned at him. “This place is too small.”_

_“Your fucking dorm is smaller than this!” Yata said, exasperated. “Anyway, excuse me for having a small home!_ Some _of us still live on a budget, you know.”_

_The corners of that frown edged up. “I guess it wouldn’t seem that small to you, would it?”_

_“What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”_

_“Nothing really.” Saruhiko belted his sword on, nonchalantly. “I have to go.”_

_“Yeah, yeah.” Yata trailed after him to the door, internally debating over what he was about to ask. “We could… get a bigger place. I mean, if you were going to move in and pay half the rent and all…”_

_“What?” Saruhiko glanced over his shoulder, clearly startled, and their eyes locked._

_For some reason, that was making Yata feel oddly self-conscious. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It - it was just an idea. Seriously, though, it makes no sense for you to stay over here every night and have all your stuff at the dorm. Bring your own damn toothbrush!”_

_“We could… get a bigger place.” Saruhiko turned to look at him. There was a sort of wary, almost-but-not-quite-pleased look on his face, as if he wasn’t sure whether it was safe to be happy about the idea. “If it’s going to be like before, I wouldn’t mind it.”_

_The short burst of surprised pleasure from the first sentence quickly faded into irritation at the second. “’Like before’?” He narrowed his eyes. “Oi… don’t tell me you still expect me to do all the chores?”_

_Saruhiko completely ignored him, frowning thoughtfully. “If I’m working on something, I don’t need you interrupting all the time. We’ll need to get a place with two bedrooms.”_

_“Two bedrooms? Are you kidding me?” Yata stared at him, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what that’ll cost? I can’t afford half of that!”_

_“Oh?” Saruhiko’s lips curled up into a lazy, satisfied-looking smirk. “Then you’d have to do the household chores to make up for the difference in rent… right, Misaki?”_

_“Ugh…” He’d walked right into that. Yata glowered back. “You lazy bastard…”_

_“At least I’m not broke all the time.” Saruhiko swung open the door and stepped out briskly. “Anyway, we can talk about it later. I’m off.”_

_“Talk about it later, my ass.” Yata slammed the door after him without responding._ As if he hasn’t already made up his mind. _“Jerk.”_

 _Somehow, though, despite his irritation, he couldn’t help but smile._ Moving in together, huh?

_It gave him a nice feeling._

“Misaki?”

Yata blinked, and the last of the vivid daydream faded. He put a hand to his head, slightly bemused. “Huh.”

That had definitely been a memory – even if it hadn’t felt so _real_ , he was sure he’d never dream up that conversation. And the feelings that went with it… the irritation (well, that was normal), the anxiety, the relieved elation…

 _I was feeling good._ It had been a long time since he’d felt like that in Saruhiko’s presence.

Well, it seemed like it had, anyway.

A finger jabbed into his cheek, and Yata swatted it away, scowling. “Cut it out! What was that for?”

“You were sitting there spacing out.” Saruhiko shrugged, unconcerned. “I thought it would be a good idea to check that you weren’t losing the rest of your brain.”

“Hah! Well, shows what you know.” Yata took the opportunity to return his smirk. “As a matter of fact, I just got a memory _back_.”

He got the satisfaction of seeing Saruhiko’s eyes widen just a fraction. “Of what?”

“We were talking about getting a place together.” Yata followed up on his advantage, pleased that he’d managed to evoke some reaction. “You borrowed my toothbrush – that’s disgusting, by the way, who does that? – and I told you to just move in already and stop using my stuff.” He raised an eyebrow. “I noticed that stupid idea about a two bedroom apartment was your way of getting out of doing chores. Seriously, are you still five years old?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, looking dissatisfied – as if the memory had failed to live up to his expectations. “That’s it? What a stupid thing to remember.”

Yata frowned at him, nonplussed. “Well, _sorry_ for having memories that don’t meet your high standards!”

Saruhiko looked ready to respond to that, but before he got the chance, the curtain at the foot of the bed was pulled back and a nurse smiled at them with strained politeness.

“Excuse me for interrupting,” she started, in a voice that was maybe just a touch _too_ cheerful. “We’ve had some complaints about noise from the other patients in this area. Can you please keep your voices lowered?”

“O-Oh…” Right, other patients. Yata felt his face grow hot, and fisted a hand in the covers, looking off to the side to avoid meeting her gaze. “S-Sorry…”

“Thank you very much!” The curtain slid shut again.

Saruhiko hummed low, obviously amused. “Well done responding like a total virgin there.”

“Shut up!” Yata muttered at him, trying to ignore the flush lingering on his cheeks. He eased himself back on the bed until his head met the pillow again, and sighed. “How much longer do I have to be here?”

“Who knows.” Saruhiko glanced sideways at him, almost warily. “Where are you planning to go when you leave?”

“What do you mean ‘where’? Home, of course.” The words were barely out of his mouth when he remembered that ‘home’ no longer meant his old apartment. “Oh.”

“Finally realized, did you?” Saruhiko remarked. His voice was neutral.

Yata studied him for a moment. His former – well, probably not so former – friend had already turned away, as if he was not really interested in a response. His hands were in his pockets, and there was nothing particularly ‘off’ about his expression.

Somehow, his eyes looked tired, though. Maybe it was the dark circles underneath.

_Seriously, what a pain…_

“Whatever, it doesn’t matter.” It _was_ the place he’d been living recently – ‘familiar surroundings’, right? Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to impose on Kusanagi – or his parents, God forbid – when there was no good reason to. “I’m paying a third of the rent, so of course I’m going to stay there.”

Yata could see the muscles in Saruhiko’s throat work as he swallowed, but there was no other sign that he was moved by the decision. “You won’t be able to afford a third of the rent until you can work again,” he commented, evenly.

Ouch. “W-Well, I’ll… I’ll pay it back.” Yata shifted, a little embarrassed. His paycheck-to-paycheck living had never been an issue when it was just him on his own, but with another person to worry about… it felt like he’d become unreliable. “Anyway, you’re not kicking me out, right?”

He was expecting some snide comment about how broke he was, so it surprised him when Saruhiko tensed up instead. “No,” he responded, shortly. “I’ll pay the rent.”

“O-Okay then.” _That was weird._ “I guess it’s settled.”

For some reason, Saruhiko shut his eyes and chuckled, as if at some inside joke Yata didn’t know about. “Right,” he agreed, and looked up again with a smile that somehow seemed painful. “It’s settled.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“I’m fine by myself, Kusanagi!” Yata grinned back at his older friend, hoping it wasn’t obvious how much he was leaning against the door handle. His head still felt like it was packed in cotton. “It’s not far from here to my place, anyway.”_

_“If you say so.”_ _Kusanagi’s smile had a hint of resignation in it. “Don’t push yourself, Yata – you’re still recovering.”_

_“It’s fine – I’ve got a strong skull, right?” Yata brushed aside his concern. “Anyway, you can’t leave the bar, and everyone else is out getting things done. I’m just getting in the way around here right now.”_

_“Misaki.”_ _Anna’s voice made him pause – he glanced over at his King, and found her watching him steadily. “You won’t be able to use red aura,” she reminded him. “Be careful.”_

 _“O-Oh, right._ _Well, I will!” He scratched at the back of his head, feeling a bit awkward about it. If he was being honest, he probably wasn’t in the best shape to be walking home by himself, but being any more of a burden on Homra wasn’t an option he was willing to accept. “I’ll be around later, okay? Seeya!”_

_The air outside was still chilly – it was only February, after all, although Yata wasn’t sure about the actual date. Somewhere close to March, probably. He’d only lost one night so far to his head injury, but the dull ache pounding at the back of his skull promised more to come._

I just need to get home and sleep.

_Luck really wasn’t on his side lately, though – he’d barely gone two blocks when a familiar voice from behind him drawled out, “Does Kusanagi know you’re weaving around in the streets like some kind of drunkard, Misaki?”_

_It was a struggle to force himself to be slow when he halted and turned, but somehow Yata managed it. “Saru,” he growled, narrowing his eyes at the familiar figure in blue._

_Saruhiko_ _offered him that hatefully confident smirk in return. “You should be more careful,” he continued. “Too many blows to the head, and you’ll start to lose brain cells. Are you sure you can afford that, Misaki?”_

_“Stop using my first name, you creepy bastard!” The pain was getting worse already, but Yata would die before he’d give that traitor the satisfaction of knowing it. “What are you doing hanging around here?”_

_“It’s part of my job to patrol the city,” Saruhiko replied, without losing an inch of that smug smile. “Not that I think we’re in any danger from miniature delinquents who get themselves concussed by second-rate strains.”_

_“You…” Yata could feel the strain on his wounded brain as his body responded to his anger and struggled instinctively to respond with a red aura trigger. The only result he could feel was his skin growing clammy. “Since when do you get your kicks from taunting someone who’s injured, you damn monkey?”_

_Saruhiko_ _actually frowned at that, looking like he was ready to respond, but in the next instant his expression shifted, eyes narrowing. His hand went to his sword._

What? _Yata had about half a second to stare at him in perplexity – despite everything, he didn’t really think Saruhiko would attack him while he was unable to fight back – and then he was being grabbed roughly from behind._

_“Motherfu – ” He responded without thinking, kicking back at where his assailant’s knees should’ve been while at the same time going for an elbow to the gut – but whoever it was apparently had a better reaction time than his slow, concussed self, because neither hit made contact. Something cold and sharp was jabbed right up against his neck._

Fuck!

 _Saruhiko_ _was faster than he’d been; the knife was barely in place before whoever was holding Yata had to dodge back out of the way of a blue sword attack, dragging him along._

 _Vertigo from the sudden movement made his head throb sharply; Yata wasn’t able to hold back a gasp, nausea churning in his stomach as his head spun._ Shit – this can’t be good…

_“Don’t care about your pal, eh, Blue?” a somewhat breathless voice demanded from right next to his ear, as they took another sharp dive. The edge of the blade dug into his skin, causing pain to spike up from his neckline. A thin trickle of something warm ran down from the point of contact._

_Yata’s_ _vision was swiming, but even from his own uncertain viewpoint he was able to catch the brief second of hesitation from Saruhiko._

The hell is he…?

_A brief second was enough; another figure – a strain, probably – darted in unnaturally fast and jabbed something Yata couldn’t see into the back of Saruhiko’s neck._

_A sweet-smelling cloth was jammed up under his nose then, and the last image he registered before blackness descended was his former friend’s body crumbling forward._

 

* * *

 

 

His heart was still racing when he opened his eyes again, and there was a cold sweat forming on his skin. Yata blinked a few times, adjusting to the darkness in the hospital room.

 _That was a memory, right?_  It had felt a little too vivid and detailed to just be a dream. But what the hell had happened?

 _Guess I could ask Kusanagi later._  He shut his eyes again, trying to calm down. Obviously things had worked out somehow, since he and Saruhiko were both alive and kicking, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. The details didn’t really matter in the end, right?

It still bothered him, though – that split second of hesitation where Saruhiko should have been confidently kicking those strains’ asses.  _Was it because of me? He was worried that guy would kill me?_

He would’ve scoffed at the idea before. But… that was before. So.

 _Maybe our friendship still did mean something to him, even back then._  Strange how that thought still kicked off the old, familiar ache in his chest. In the first few months after Saruhiko had left, Yata had wracked his brain going back through every old conversation he could think of, every moment when they’d been together or hung out or just talked, looking for clues about what had gone wrong. At the edges of his frustration, there had always been the lingering possibility he’d wanted to ignore – the chance that Saruhiko had never actually liked him, but had pretended to tolerate Yata for his own reasons and then jumped at the chance to abandon the false friendship. He didn’t actually believe it was true – couldn’t bring himself to believe it, more like – but it was there.

But if that hesitation had actually been for his sake… then…

 _Why is this such a big deal to me?_  Yata slung his arm over his eyes, annoyed at how they’d started to sting with the old memories rising back up.  _I already know we fixed things. We’re fucking living together, so why does_ this _seem like such a huge thing?_

Maybe when he remembered the rest of it, things would make sense.

 _That doesn’t help now, though._  He slid the arm back and let out a long breath, cracking his eyes open to stare up at the ceiling in frustration.

Tomorrow, they were letting him out of the hospital – as long as someone was there to check him out and take him home. He was relying on Saruhiko for that, although Kusanagi had said he’d come up if he was needed, and it had been harder than it should’ve to convince his mother not to show up. He’d basically gotten out of that only by promising to message her every day. Yata would’ve honestly preferred to walk out on his own, but even if the hospital had okay’d that, he wouldn’t have a clue how to get to his –  _their_  – apartment anyway.

He wasn’t going to ride in the wheelchair, though. Fuck that.

 _I won’t get to do anything fun for a while…_  It was going to suck, actually. Sure, being at home – no matter how unfamiliar – was better than being stuck in a hospital bed, but ‘no strenuous activity’ was bullshit either way. Yata was sure he’d be ready to crawl out of his skin by the time ‘two or three weeks’ – or however long his recovery took – were over. And that was even without the weird and kind of uncomfortable prospect of learning how to live with Saruhiko again.

Somehow, it always came back to Saruhiko.

 _Can’t really help that, though._  He shut his eyes, trying not to think too hard about it. They’d done it before, this ‘living together’ business – and hey, obviously it was working out now, or he wouldn’t still be there. He could totally learn to do it again.

That thought was still on his mind when he slid back into sleep, and he didn’t have any more dreams.

 

* * *

 

 

The apartment building Yata lived in with Saruhiko was definitely a step up from his old place – it was bigger, for one thing, and in a much less ‘questionable’ part of the city. The individual apartment doors were all on the inside of the building, along with a row of mailboxes and an elevator, and the grounds looked like they were taken care of.

Looking at it gave him a sense of deja-vu; it wasn’t exactly familiar, but… it kind of was, at the same time. Like visiting somewhere he’d been once before, a long time ago. Or being a kid and playing an old, overused make-believe game. It didn’t seem like he actually belonged there.

 _Except I live here, so yeah._  He’d just have to adjust.

“I left your keys here when I brought your stuff back from the hospital,” Saruhiko explained, as he unlocked the door to their apartment and pushed it open. “Since you were coming home with me anyway, I figured you didn’t really need them.”

“Huh, okay.” Yata wasn’t really interested in his keys right then. He stepped into the apartment, turned automatically to slide his shoes off, and moved out of the entryway to take in the home he couldn’t remember.

Not counting the bedrooms (which he couldn’t see yet with the doors closed), the place was probably about the same size as his old apartment. It  _looked_ bigger, but that was because there was a lot more open space without his bed and clothing and other personal items mixed in. The kitchen was more or less like his old one – less wear on the appliances and counters was about the only difference. The bathroom looked like a unit bath, which was what he’d had before (probably nicer than his old one, though). He was pretty sure the table was his – it was a traditional-style table that Kamamoto’s family had planned to throw away, and he recognized the chipped edges. The couch and TV weren’t familiar – Yata hadn’t had either in his old place – but they looked well-used, so maybe they were another handout or something. And then, on the stand beneath the TV…

 _A game console._  The world suddenly seemed brighter. Yata ambled his way over and knelt slowly beside the TV for a closer look.  _The latest one, too…_  He would’ve  _killed_  for this back when he was on his own. “Hey” – he didn’t bother turning, but reached out instead to tap lightly on the casing – “Did you buy this?”

“Obviously.” Saruhiko had walked over behind him. “I think we’ve established that you have no spare cash for things like this.”

Yata did turn to face him then, scowling. “I thought we might’ve gone in  _together_ , dumbass – does everything have to turn into an insult with you?” His gaze caught on a low shelf near where he was sitting then, and his annoyance faded. “Wait, hold up – we have this many games?” He reached out to grab a case from the shelf, slightly awed. “I’ve been dying to play this one!”

“You’ve already played it,” Saruhiko pointed out, flatly. “Believe me, you did. Every day, for hours. Until you got sick of it, at which point you moved on to one of the others.” He clicked his tongue. “Your good friends at Homra called  _my_  phone to find out if I’d knocked you out and stuffed you in a cellar somewhere, because you weren’t picking yours up.”

Yata blinked at him. He didn’t seem like he was joking. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. The only time I could get you to stop was if I – ” He halted in mid-sentence.

“If you what?” Yata prompted, torn between curiosity and wariness.

Saruhiko’s expression seemed to have completely shuttered up; his eyes dulled into that distant, bored gaze, and his lips thinned. “Nothing really,” he responded with apparent disinterest, and turned abruptly to walk away. “When you’re done having orgasms over the games, your room is the one closer to the bathroom.”

Yata watched him as he made his way to the other door, more than a little confused. Somehow, that had gone wrong, and wasn’t sure how or why. “Do I ever go into your room?”

Saruhiko’s hand stilled on the doorknob. “Why do you ask?”

“Just… you know.” He shrugged, feeling a bit awkward about it. “The doctor said I had a better chance of getting memories back in familiar surroundings. I need to know which surroundings are familiar for that, right?”

There was a short but noticeable pause before the next response came. “I guess.” Saruhiko turned back with a bit of a frown, and clicked his tongue with obvious irritation. “You’ve been in here a few times.”

 _What’s with that response?_  Yata pushed himself carefully to his feet, wobbling a bit with the small spike of vertigo that came with his shift in position. “In that case, it’s no big deal if I have a look, right?”

He got another sharp ‘tsk’, and Saruhiko opened the door, moving inside without waiting for him. “Do whatever you want.”

“Your attitude really pisses me off, you know that?” He directed a sour look at his supposed friend’s back, making his way slowly over to the room. “We’re never going to get anywhere if you start sulking in a corner every time I can’t remember something. Because in case you’ve somehow missed it – stupid-ass monkey that you are – I don’t remember most things!”

“Ah, right.” Saruhiko didn’t spare him any attention; he was pulling a chair away from the small desk sitting directly opposite from the door when Yata came up to the room. “It’s hard to tell, considering how short your attention span’s always been,” he drawled, sliding into the seat. “As short as the rest of you, right, Misaki?”

“Fuck  _off_  about my height! I’m not that short!” Yata’s fists were clenched before he could think about it; there was red in his vision, and his head was starting to pound alarmingly. “And quit calling me by my first name! It’s creepy as hell!”

“Mm, is it?” Saruhiko opened his laptop. “You didn’t seem to mind much before the accident.”

Yata sucked in a sharp, angry breath, caught without a reply, and the silence stretched on for just a fraction too long. “You probably weren’t being such an asshole before the accident!” he retorted finally, trying to catch the flow of the argument again.

“If you really think that’s the case, you don’t know me at all, Misaki.”

His head was definitely not happy with him now. Yata unclenched his fists slowly, glaring at Saruhiko’s back as he tried to calm down. The dull, heavy ache against his skull was hovering on the edge between ‘warning zone’ and ‘danger zone’ – aggravating it wasn’t going to help. “Yeah, well, I figured that out a long time ago,” he muttered, wrenching his gaze away to take in the rest of the room instead.

_You don’t exactly make it easy to know you, Saruhiko._

The bedroom wasn’t much of a distraction, unfortunately. Yata probably should’ve guessed that it would be mostly bare, considering the personality of the person it belonged to. There was the desk and laptop, a small bedside table with a drawer, and…

_What, seriously?_

“Oi, Saru.” He raised an eyebrow at his old friend’s back. “What the hell do you need a bed that big for? Your bony ass doesn’t take up that much room.”

“Hmm?” Saruhiko actually tilted his head back over his shoulder at that, offering a lazy smirk. “As flattered as I am that you’ve paid so much attention to my ass…”

“S-Stop twisting things around!” Yata could feel the heat rising on his face at the implication. “You know what I meant!”

“… I really shouldn’t need to explain what people buy large beds for,” Saruhiko finished, as if he hadn’t said anything. He raised both eyebrows meaningfully. “Or is it too much for you to comprehend now that your brain’s regressed to virgin mode?”

“Eh?” Yata blinked at him, glanced back to the bed –  _what people buy large beds for_  –  _too much for you to comprehend_  –  _virgin mode_  –  _virgin_ … He just about choked. “Wait – wait – you… on this bed…”

That condescending look didn’t even falter.

Yata’s face was growing hotter by the second – his thoughts whirled.  _No way… no way in hell…_  He couldn’t imagine Saruhiko… doing that. Sex.  _Fuck, he seriously did it?_  Some bitter emotion stirred at the pit of his stomach; envy, he thought. Probably. He didn’t want to think about it too much. More importantly… “With me sleeping in the next room? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Who said you were sleeping in the next room?” Saruhiko continued right along before he could gather his wits and demand an explanation. “Either way, it wouldn’t be any of your business if I did. I can do what I want in my own bedroom, right?”

“Th-This is different!” His head was pounding again – it felt like all the blood in his body had rushed up to his face – but it was drowned out by the sudden thunderstorm against his ribcage.  _He’s not saying he didn’t…_  “You… you can’t just…”

“Just what? I said you weren’t in your room – what do you care?”

That bitter feeling was still churning around in his stomach, worse than ever.  _Why am I so upset about this?_  Yata clenched his hands into fists and looked away, confused and embarrassed. “Yeah, fine,” he muttered sullenly. “I don’t care.”

“That so?” Saruhiko sounded somehow irritated; when Yata glanced up, his face had a sort of dissatisfied look to it. With another click of his tongue, he turned back to his laptop. “Well, good for you – now you can shut up about it.”

Yata stared at him for a minute longer. He still felt vaguely uncomfortable with how that had gone, but the flurry of emotion was making him flustered, and he didn’t really trust himself to push for more answers.  _He didn’t actually say he did, either._  Somehow, the thought made him feel better. Saruhiko was probably just bugging him – he did that all the time, right? He hadn’t actually had sex with some unknown person in the apartment they shared.

Right?

The uncertainty had barely hit him when he was assaulted with the sudden, vivid mental image of a cheap bar from the vantage point of a stool at the counter, and a bowl of ramen being placed in front of him.

_It was too hard to look up at the owner of that neatly manicured hand that had delivered his food; Yata settled for muttering a self-conscious “thanks” at the bowl, and reached for his chopsticks._

_From beside him, he heard a familiar amused-sounding snort. “Vir~gin.”_

_“Shut up!” He directed a scowl at the source. “Like you’re not. Anti-social bastard.”_

_“I can talk to women without turning into a stuttering mess, though.” Saruhiko had already busied himself separating the vegetables from his noodles, but paused to return the irritated gaze with a raised eyebrow._

_Yata’s_ _own eyebrow twitched involuntarily. “That’s because you don’t bother to talk – you just click your tongue at everyone and tell them they’re annoying!”_

 _Saruhiko’s_ _mouth quirked downward. “I can also say the word ‘sex’ without blushing. Why don’t you go ahead and try it, Misaki.”_

 _“Sh-shut up!”_ _Based on the traitorous warmth flooding his cheeks, he was probably already blushing, and he hadn’t even tried to say anything yet. Yata directed a glare at the taller man. “Some of us don’t bring up crude subjects like that in public places, okay?”_

 _Saruhiko_ _let his eyes rove meaningfully around at the other patrons of the bar. Most of them were salarymen, with a few laborers mixed in. “I don’t think you’re going to find any delicate sensibilities to upset here,” he remarked, blandly. “Except for your own, of course.”_

 _Yata_ _clenched his fist around his chopsticks tightly. “That’s not the point!”_

 _“Oh, really?”_ _He got a smirk in response. “So, in that case, if we went back to your apartment, you’d be able to talk about sex no problem, right?”_

_“… ngh.” Fucking goddamnit. Yata glowered helplessly at him. “You’re the worst.”_

_“So you say.” Saruhiko turned back to his task of disassembling his meal, his unconcerned manner marred by the way his mouth turned up at the corners in a smile that had no mockery in it. “But you’re the one who insists on spending time with me.”_

_“Heh._ _Well, I have to take responsibility as the only person who can put up with you,” Yata retorted, but even as he turned back to his own food, he felt an answering smile tugging at his own lips._

_Worth it._

The scene slid out of focus like a fade-to-black from a movie, and Yata raised a hand to his head, momentarily disoriented.  _Another memory…_

He shut his eyes for a moment, rewinding back over that short clip. Somehow, the similarities and differences between their conversation at the bar and the one they’d just had seemed to leap out at him. Sure, they’d been sniping at each other in the memory, but it had somehow felt comfortable. Familiar, even. Like there was an understanding between them.

Like they actually enjoyed being around each other.

A sudden rush of longing rose up as an ache at the back of his throat, catching him completely off-guard and nearly causing him to choke with its intensity. He could still see that rare smile, carrying the lingering traces of his own contentment.  _If it was like that, then why...?_

Why couldn’t they be like that now?

When he’d gathered himself enough to open his eyes, Saruhiko was looking over at him, chair half-turned. His eyes were hooded. “Another memory?”

“Yeah.” Yata lowered his hand, turning his head so that he didn’t have to meet that sharp gaze. He scowled at the floor, suddenly embarrassed. “You’ll probably think it’s stupid again, so – ”

“What was it?” Saruhiko cut him off, without inflection.

Yata raised his eyes again, scowl deepening. “Do you even fucking  _listen_  when I start to talk?”

“Right, I heard you, I’ll probably think it’s stupid.” That drawling, I-could-care-less tone. “I was in it, wasn’t I?”

“I never said that!”

“Oh? I wasn’t, then?”

 _This guy…_  Yata’s eyebrow twitched. “… I never said that, either.”

“So, I was.” Saruhiko raised his own eyebrow. “What did you remember about me, Misaki?”

“I told you to stop using that name, already!” The irritation building at the back of Yata’s skull was starting to make his head pound again. “Ugh, fucking whatever, I don’t care! We were at a stupid bar eating a stupid meal and you made a stupid comment about me acting like a stupid virgin in front of a stupid serving girl, and then we had a stupid argument – that’s it, are you fucking happy now?”

Saruhiko studied him for a moment, impassively. “That’s it?”

Yata returned his stare, feeling belligerent. “What the hell else were you expecting?”

“Hmm, who knows.” His gaze was searching. “You had a weird expression on.”

Heat rushed to Yata’s face.  _He noticed?_   “Th-that wasn’t…” Fuck, how could he explain it without saying something that would probably get him mocked? “It was just – it felt different.”

“Different,” Saruhiko repeated. It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah, different.” Yata rubbed gingerly at the back of his head, feeling awkward about it. “Like, you weren’t as much of a dick – I mean, you were, but it didn’t really feel that bad, somehow. It was more, I dunno, comfortable. I guess.”

“Comfortable.” That flat tone spoke volumes somehow.

“Well, we were friends or something, right?” Now he just felt defensive about it. “It was like that. You were pissing me off, but I was still happy about it in some weird way.”

Saruhiko was still looking at him with that unimpressed look. “Happy, huh?”

“Would you cut that the fuck out? Don’t just repeat whatever I say!” It was more nerves than anything that had Yata snapping back. “At least have some kind of reaction!”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frown deepening. “You’re not exactly describing it well.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who responds to everything with ‘nothing really’ or ‘figure it out yourself’ all the time!” Yata retorted, feeling more than a little bitter about it. “ _Anyway_ , we were obviously on good terms then, so what the hell is with you now?”

Another irritated-sounding ‘tsk’, and Saruhiko turned away, his upper lip curling. “I’m not the one who’s different now.”

“You are the one being  _difficult_  now, you stupid monkey!” Yata glared at him.  _Is he actually serious? What the fuck?_  “You’re acting like I forgot on purpose just to inconvenience  _you_. This isn’t fucking easy for me, but at least I’m trying!”

“Trying what, exactly, Misaki?” There – somehow he’d managed to get on Saruhiko’s nerves too, at least, because that earned him a return glare. “Asking me to just explain everything to you? Do you have any idea what you’re asking for? What do you think your reaction’s going to be like if I give you an itemized list of the last year? You’ll just say ‘oh, okay, so that’s how it is’ and everything will be fine?” The look that came along with that was scornful. “Don’t make me laugh. Look at how you reacted in the hospital when you first woke up.”

 _When I first woke up…_  Yata tried to go back to that moment. Which reaction of his had been so bad? When he’d stared at Saruhiko and their joined hands in confusion? When he’d tried to keep Kusanagi from leaving them alone? When he’d panicked over the ‘almost a year ago’ thing?

_Don’t tell me… he actually noticed all of that?_

His anger felt like it had drained out of him; he stared back, more than a little stunned. “You…”

“If you’re not going to remember it on your own, it’s meaningless.” Saruhiko shut his eyes, let out a frustrated-sounding breath, and turned back to his laptop again, purposefully. “If you can’t stand to talk to me before that happens, then just don’t talk to me. I don’t particularly care, you know.”

 _But that’s a lie, isn’t it?_  Whether it was a memory or just instinct, Yata had a strong feeling that was the way it was. “Dumbass,” he responded, without heat. “Who else am I going to talk to when I’m stuck in this apartment for the next few weeks?”

“That’s what your PDA is for, isn’t it?”

Yata raised an eyebrow, torn between irritation and amusement. “Are you an idiot? I’m trying to make a gesture here, Saru!”

It would’ve been easy to miss the way Saruhiko’s mouth twitched if he hadn’t already been watching. “Do whatever you want,” he muttered, not taking his eyes from the screen.

Yata felt the corners of his own mouth turn up – the atmosphere felt lighter, too.  _I think I’m starting to get the hang of this guy again._  “Then I guess I’ll go check out my room.”

“Go ahead.” Saruhiko still didn’t turn as he made his way slowly to the door, but just as he was reaching back to close it after him, he added, in a grudging undertone, “You’re not the only one trying.”

The surprised pleasure that spread out from his chest at that made Yata feel warm.  _He’ll actually admit something like that to me now?_  It was really gratifying, somehow. “Ah… oh.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “… Thanks.”

“Shut the door after you,” Saruhiko said, without addressing the rest.

 _It’s a start, I guess._  “Yeah, yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

He ended up taking a nap – as much as he would’ve liked to be stubborn about it, it made way more sense to just give in when he felt like he was pushing it. There wasn’t exactly anything urgent he needed to take care of, and the more he rested, the sooner he’d get better… right?

Yata’s bedroom was the same size as Saruhiko’s, but it felt both bigger and smaller at the same time. Bigger, because he still had his old bed, which took up a lot less space. But smaller, because he actually had  _stuff_  in his room. Personal stuff, like a shelf full of comics, stacks of magazines, and photos of his friends. His skateboard leaned against the shelf, and he had posters on the walls. His handheld gaming console was charging near the bed, a couple of games sitting beside it.

Overall, it felt like home, and he’d finally gotten the sense that he actually  _belonged_  here – which was a huge relief.

It was probably his stomach that woke him up – that, and the smell of food wafting in from the next room. Yata felt groggy, and his head still had that unpleasantly heavy feel to it that made him wary of moving too quickly, but he was hungry, and – he checked his PDA – it was about time for dinner anyway.

 _Takeout or leftovers, probably, knowing Saru._  Either way, it smelled good. He slid carefully out of bed and wandered over to the door.

Saruhiko was at the counter unloading containers from a nondescript brown bag –  _Heh_ _, called it_  – but he looked up when Yata came into the room. “Good morning,” he drawled.

“Uh huh.” Yata eyed the spread in front of him dubiously. “What army did you invite over?”

He got two raised eyebrows for that. “You do want something to eat for tomorrow, don’t you?”

Right, Saruhiko would be going back to work. He remembered talking about it now, as part of the discussion on whether or not he’d be fine by himself. It was a conversation that hadn’t been easy on his pride. “Yeah, but this is kind of… I dunno, too much? I’ll be making my own meals again before I’ve used it all up.”

“I’ll take some for lunch.” Saruhiko set the now-empty bag aside. “Isn’t it better to have too much? If you called me at work to order food for you, I’d hang up.”

Yata scowled at him. “As if I’d do that, idiot!”

“Kamamoto is still out of town, you know.” That knowing smirk was back again. “You can’t call him to bring you food.”

“I wouldn’t do that either! Just shut up already.” He hesitated in front of the cupboards. “Plates are up here, right?”

“Can’t say,” Saruhiko replied lazily. “I was told to shut up.”

“Fucking dick,” Yata muttered under his breath, opening the cupboard anyway. Bowls, mugs, and glasses. He found the plates behind the next door. “You seem like you’re in a good mood somehow.”

“Mm, that so?” The response was somewhat distracted; Saruhiko was already dishing food out onto his own plate, carefully avoiding the parts he didn’t like. “You slept for a long time.”

 _And that puts you in a good mood? Figures._  Yata frowned at the back of his head, waiting for a turn at the food. “Still not eating vegetables? I figured you’d be over that by now.”

“I don’t trust them from some random place.”

“What’s there to trust? They’re  _vegetables_.” He moved in as Saruhiko carried his plate out of the kitchen, scoping out the trays for the best content before starting to load up. As expected, they were mostly meat-based dishes. “Anyway, what qualifies as  _not_  being ‘some random place’?”

Saruhiko lowered himself to a cross-legged position beside the table, pulled a face, and clicked his tongue. “It’s all right sometimes when you include them.”

“What, seriously?” Yata just about dropped his chopsticks, gawking openly at his – roommate? Friend? Both? Whatever. Either way, the most stubborn person he knew, and not someone he’d ever expected to give ground on anything. “You never ate them when I cooked before…”

He got a dismissive noise as a response; Saruhiko picked up his chopsticks and focussed on his food rather than looking up. “I had no incentive before.”

“Right,  _incentive_  – should’ve known.” Yata smiled ruefully to himself, piling the last selection onto his plate. Saruhiko always needed reasons for the things he did – and not just ‘it’s good for you’ or ‘you’ll ruin your health in the future’, but  _immediate_  and  _definable_  reasons. Or, occasionally, bribes. “So what is it?”

“What?”

“Your mother. What the fuck do you  _think_?” He set his plate down and lowered himself carefully into a seat on the floor, shooting a flat stare across the table. “Your  _incentive_  for putting the vegetables I cook into your fussy fucking mouth, what else?”

“Oh, that.” Saruhiko looked up long enough to smirk at him. “Get the right memories back, and I’ll fill you in. Assuming you can’t figure it out for yourself by then, of course.”

Yata scowled at him. “Fuck you.”

“If you say so.” He shrugged, clearly unconcerned.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Yata muttered, a little unsettled by the way the response triggered a familiar sort of tension at the pit of his stomach. Familiar… but he didn’t recognize it. Like the edge of a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. Feeling a bit awkward about it, he picked up his chopsticks. “Thanks for the food, by the way.”

“It’s nothing.” Saruhiko glanced up at him again, without mockery this time. “Still fine for tomorrow?”

Yata choked back the urge to get defensive – he was injured, so it was understandable. “Yeah, yeah, it’s all good.” Kusanagi and the others would’ve worried, too.

 _Actually, they did, didn’t they?_  Unbidden, the memory from last night came rushing back to him. Kusanagi and his resigned concern. Anna with her carefully worded warning and knowing eyes. And then Saruhiko’s moment of hesitation that had cost him the fight with the strains.

That last bit gave him pause; Yata watched his friend for a long moment, debating internally. He wanted to know, but… well…

 _Fuck, whatever, it can’t hurt._  “So I had this dream last night…”

“If it involves the nurse at the hospital, I don’t want to hear it.”

“N-Not that kind of dream, you fucker!” Yata felt heat rising to his face again, and mentally kicked himself for leaving an opening like that. “It was a memory.”

Saruhiko lowered his chopsticks, eyeing him with sudden interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah, from my last concussion – you know, with the strain.” He waved his chopsticks vaguely. “I was walking home by myself and you came along and starting being an asshole, like always. I couldn’t trigger red aura, and we got attacked, it was pretty stupid.”

There was an unmistakeable tension in Saruhiko’s posture; his lips thinned. “Oh. That.”

That wasn’t much to go on. Yata felt like maybe he was treading on thin ice now, but he couldn’t help but push onward anyway. “I dunno, it just seemed like… maybe it was just me imagining it or something, but…” Fuck, why was it this awkward? “Were you actually, you know,  _worried_  about me?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frown deepening. “Believe it or not, we’ve had this conversation already.”

“Well, I don’t remember it!” Yata’s fingers tightened around his chopsticks. “Can’t we just fucking talk about it? Our friendship meant something to you, right? I mean, we wouldn’t be here together if – ”

Across from him, Saruhiko abruptly pushed himself up, taking his plate. “I’m eating in my room,” he said shortly, already moving in that direction.

“Fucking, just…” The door shut sharply behind him. “… wait.”

 _Goddamnit_ _…_

Yata turned his eyes back to his plate, hurt and frustration welling up at the pit of his stomach.  _Should’ve known better than to ask._  He poked at the suddenly less appetizing food in front of him, as an old, familiar ache rose up at the back of his throat. Bracing his left elbow on the table, he rested his forehead against the heel of his hand and let out all of his breath in a rush, feeling the rest of his energy drain.

 _This is why I can’t fucking deal with you._  How had he handled this over the past year?

Did he even  _have_  to handle this kind of thing, or was it specific to him not having any memories?

Yata straightened up, focussing on his food with determination. He wasn’t about to let a stupid argument get him down now.  _I’ll remember it on my own – just you wait, you stubborn son of a bitch_.

When he’d finished up and cleaned off his plate, somehow his gaze automatically fell on the closed door. Saruhiko hadn’t come out even to drop off his own dirty dish, and Yata had a sneaking suspicious that he probably wouldn’t – at least, not until he was sure that the room would be empty.

 _Do we fight like this often?_  It seemed likely, with everything that had happened, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was easier to deal with Saruhikowhen armed with the memories that would give him some of the answers he needed. So, maybe not.

 _“What do you think your reaction’s going to be like if I give you an itemized list of the last year?”_  Yata frowned to himself, torn between frustration and an odd twinge of guilt. Okay, yeah, so Saruhiko had straight-up told him why he didn’t want to explain any of this, but was it really so bad to want to know? It felt like there were holes in his life the size of Shizume City, and their falling out had always been a particularly sore spot.

In short, he was desperate, and there was a chance for a scrap of information, he was going to grab for it. He couldn’t help it.

Still… going to bed on bad terms, with Saruhiko heading back to work tomorrow…

“Fucking hell,” Yata muttered under his breath, and sighed, making his way across the room to his roommate’s door. He rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface. “Oi, Saru.”

Silence from inside.

 _There’s a surprise._  He had to bite back his irritation. “About earlier…” The words didn’t come easily – but then, nothing did when it came to the two of them. “My bad. Sorry.”

More silence.

Yata sucked in a breath, clenching his hands into fists and fighting the urge to snap out something. He was supposed to be apologizing, after all.  _It would be nice if he’d at least acknowledge it or something._ “All right, anyway, see you tomorrow some time, I guess.”

He’d already turned away from the door with the intention of shuffling off to his own room when it opened, and Saruhiko’s voice answered, flatly, “It wasn’t really your fault.”

Yata turned back around to stare at him with more than a little surprise, and he added, “Mostly.”

“Heh.” The edges of Yata’s mouth tugged upwards. “That sounds more like you. For a second there, I thought you’d lost it or something.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, shifting his gaze to the side. “I told you I’m trying. Our – this – ” A faint red color rose on his cheeks. “It’s… important to me,” he muttered out, obviously with some effort.

Yata stared at him, completely dumbstruck. Even in his most deluded moments, he never could have imagined his former best friend like this. He’d have sworn up and down that Saruhiko would die a painful death before confessing to having something as human as  _feelings_. And, seriously,  _blushing_? What the hell was this?

 _I… don’t mind it, though._  Something turned over in his chest; Yata swallowed painfully. His mouth felt dry. “Saru…”

Saruhiko turned again so their eyes met, and it felt a little bit like the world had tilted. “Misaki,” he responded, voice low, expression somehow intent.

_What is going on, seriously?_

Yata cleared his throat, feeling strangely self-conscious. His face was uncomfortably warm. “Anyway, I should probably go get some more sleep or something,” he managed, a bit desperately. “Right?”

“Ah, right.” Abruptly, Saruhiko’s whole face seemed to shutter up; he shrugged with seeming indifference. “I’ll let you know when I leave tomorrow.”

This was better – familiar territory again. Yata breathed with a little more ease, the tight feeling in his chest loosening up. “Yeah, okay. Night.”

“Night.”

He heard the door close shortly after he’d turned to walk back to his own room, but it still felt like Saruhiko’s gaze followed him all the way in. And, for whatever crazy reason, his heart was going a mile a minute.


	3. Chapter 3

_Yata_ _sat with his back resting (somewhat) comfortably against his bed, an empty takeout container on the floor beside him and a laptop on the table in front of him playing an action movie he couldn’t remember the name of. Not that it mattered._

_Beside him, Saruhiko yawned for what was probably the billionth time since they’d started._

_“Why don’t you just turn it off if you’re that bored?” Yata snapped, patience finally stretched to the limit._

_Saruhiko_ _shrugged, unrepentant. “It’s not the movie. I worked late last night.”_

 _Yata_ _raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. “You actually work?”_

_“Compared to scraping a living through part-time shifts and not paying taxes, yes, I work quite a bit.” Saruhiko returned his dig without even hesitating, a smug little smirk playing at his lips. “Maybe you should take some notes, Misaki. It might make the rent less of a stretch every month.”_

_“Fuck off. I’ve told you not to call me that.” Yata scowled down at his food, irritated by the way that had turned around on him. “And not everyone can live rent-free in government-funded dorms.”_

_“You might as well be living in a dorm considering the size of this place.” Saruhiko brought up a hand to cover another yawn._

_“It’s not much smaller than our old place.” The words were barely out of his mouth before he was regretting them – bringing up the past never failed to make things awkward. Yata turned his eyes back to the movie to avoid the impending moment of uncomfortable silence._

_At least there was a convenient distraction handy._

_On-screen, the hero made an impossible jump out of a burning car, rolling out on the pavement just seconds before the car hit a wall and exploded. Yata felt the grin building on his face –_ what the fuck, really? _– and turned his head with the intent of commenting about what a lame-ass scene that was._

_The words pretty well kicked it before he’d opened his mouth, though, because Saruhiko’s head was tilted back against the mattress, eyes closed, mouth cracked open, breathing steady._

For real?  _Yata_ _peered doubtfully at that uncharacteristically relaxed face._

_Just how late had he been working last night?_

_“Oi, Saru,” he started, shifting onto his knees and prodding at his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, you can’t sleep here like this – get up and go home if you’re that tired. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”_

_Saruhiko_ _made a discontent sound, reaching up lazily to swat his hand away and cracking his eyes open to give Yata a hazy glare. “Half an hour more,” he muttered, shutting them again._

 _Yata_ _stared at him, disgruntled._  Are you fucking serious?  _“This isn’t going to be like last time, is it? When you kept saying ‘half an hour more’ until I fell asleep too, and we both ended up with sore necks?” He’d had an early shift at work the next morning too, and it had royally sucked. “Because if so, I’m going to bed right now and you can deal with your shitty decisions on your own.”_

 _“Hrm.”_ _Saruhiko cracked an eye open again, this time with an irritated downturn to the corners of his mouth. “Go ahead and sleep,” he mumbled, shifting purposefully so that his head took up more of the mattress, “with my head in your crotch. Enjoy it.”_

_“Wha – ?” Yata felt his face burn, and instinctively glared in response. “What the hell? Don’t be weird!” He shoved at Saruhiko’s shoulder, ineffectually – the taller boy just kind of flopped right back, like putty. “Sleep on the floor, you dick!”_

_“Virgin.”_ _Not even a smile came along with that taunt, but in the soft, sleepy tone it sounded more fond than anything. Saruhiko’s eyes slid shut, their owner evidently content to block out any further complaints._

_The sudden rapid increase in tempo of Yata’s heart was almost enough to distract him from the heat still spread across his face. “What the hell,” he muttered, a little disturbed by his own reactions. Seriously, one stupid comment and a soft word or two was all it took to make him feel like this?_

Because it’s Saruhiko, _that quiet corner of his brain – the one where he stored all of the things about himself that he didn’t like to think about – insisted._ You have a soft spot for him anyway.

 _Yata_ _could feel his mouth twisting in a scowl – but it wasn’t like he had space to deny it. “At least don’t sleep with your glasses on,” he muttered, in an effort to distract himself, and shifted over to reach for them before he could really think the idea through. “Dumbass.”_

_Pretty much the instant he started to slide the glasses off, he could tell he was crossing a line. A month of semi-wary friendship didn’t make up for the years of everything being broken between them. They really weren’t back up to the point of casual physical contact – not even close – and… well… that sleeping face was both familiar and not-so-familiar in a way that was making his throat clench up._

_Had those lashes always been so long? Skin always that pale? Cheekbones so high?_

_The sudden uncertainty made his hands unsteady; his fingers accidentally brushed over Saruhiko’s cheek as he pulled back, and his heart gave a little jolt. Something like excitement or anxiety stirred in his stomach._

What…?

 _Yata’s_ _breath caught in his throat; he thought he recognized this feeling – this tightening in his chest – but he wasn’t sure if he’d brushed aside the memory or actively repressed it. There hadn’t been much time to think about every stupid little thing once they’d joined Homra, but – well._  But.

_There had definitely been a time when he was so aware of Saruhiko. Way back when…_

“Go ahead and sleep with my head in your crotch. Enjoy it.”  _And his heart just started to pound away…_

 _Yata_ _dropped Saruhiko’s glasses on the bed, scrambling back frantically. The heat on his face was spreading down over his neck; it seriously felt like he was on fire, and not in a good way. This was bad. Humiliating. Completely unfair. What the hell?_ Fucking what the hell? Why should I have to feel like this?

_Exactly when had his heart decided to turn against him?_

 

* * *

 

 

Something was shaking at him, almost like it was trying to snap him out of his half-panicking epiphany in a sharp ‘get a hold of yourself’ way. “Misaki,” it said, sounding irritated. “Wake up.”

Yata had a moment of dizzying disorientation – hold up, wasn’t he the one who’d been awake? – and then the dull, heavy-feeling ache at the back of his skull registered, and he was back in the present. He cracked one eye open with effort, and the blurred image of his roommate came into view.

The roommate he’d apparently just remembered having feelings for.

_Oh… fuck._

“Finally,” Saruhiko muttered, oblivious to the crushing weight of realization that was hitting as he spoke. He leaned back away from the bed, his hand sliding away from Yata’s shoulder. “Are you going to need anything before I go to work?”

 _Shit._  Yata’s heart sped up. He shut his eye again, unsure if he could handle it once Saruhiko’s face came into focus. The memory from his dream was still waiting for him in the dark, though – that sleeping face, lips slack and parted as if he was waiting for – “ _No_ ,” he ground out, probably a lot more forcefully than he should’ve. His voice cracked, and he wasn’t sure if it was sleep or… yeah.

_Fuck this guy. Fuck my life. Fuck everything, oh my god. What the hell did I do to deserve this?_

There was a moment of perplexed silence. Then, “What’s that about?”

“No – Nothing!” Yata rolled onto his side, pulling the covers around him in a desperate attempt to hide the flush he was sure was spreading across his face. “Go to work already,” he snapped out, hoping it came out irritated and not panicky. His fingers were shaking; he curled them into fists and pressed one hand hard against his chest as if to keep his heart from hammering its way right through his ribcage.

_Just leave already, you damn monkey, I can’t handle you right now!_

From somewhere outside of his hastily created barrier, he could hear Saruhiko click his tongue. “Fine, I’m going.” The sound of footsteps striding off towards the door followed; then a pause. “See you tonight.”

Yata swallowed, painfully aware of the uncomfortable feelings churning around in his stomach. “Y-Yeah,” he managed, and then after a beat, “Have a good day.”

It wasn’t until he heard the front door of the apartment shut behind Saruhiko that he let out the breath he’d been holding.

 _Goddamnit_ _, that was awkward._  It couldn’t really be helped, though.  _Waking up from a memory like that…_  Yata rolled over again and stared blankly up at the ceiling, his heart still racing and his thoughts all over the place.  _I’ve actually – I mean, I have_ those _kinds of feelings for him. For Saruhiko._  It felt unreal – but at the same time, somehow…

 _I feel like I should’ve figured it out sooner._  After all, he’d been weirdly upset when Saruhiko was talking about having sex with some random person (that was totally a lie, though, right?). And then there was that moment just before he’d gone to bed… their eyes had met, and Saruhiko had looked at him like  _that_ , all intense and – and sexy, probably, and said his name in that low tone, not even mockingly, just serious and focussed and…

 _Oh fuck, stop! Stop already!_  Yata screwed his eyes shut, cringing with embarrassment. His face felt like a furnace. This was like opening a floodgate or something – now that he  _knew_  he felt that way, he couldn’t even think normally about Saruhiko anymore. Everything was just ‘hey, yeah, you completely want to kiss that guy or touch him or something, hah!’ There was no middle ground – it went straight from platonic-friend-place to awkward-feelings-land without a pit stop.

 _Fuck my life, seriously!_ He groaned, flopping one arm over to cover his eyes.  _I would’ve been a lot fucking happier_ not _to get that memory back!_  How the hell was he supposed to act around Saruhiko now? Back then, at least they weren’t living together; he’d have had space to figure it out. Or something. But now…

How  _were_  you supposed to deal with having feelings for your roommate, who also happened to be another guy – and, on top of that, a best-friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend-again?

His head was starting to throb just thinking about it. The whole thing was too fucking complicated.

 _I did it before, though, right?_  Yata shifted his arm enough to frown up at the ceiling again, considering that. Somehow or another, back then he’d managed to deal. They’d even become roommates – and he hadn’t felt that freaked out over it when getting a place together came up, so it couldn’t be that hard. It was just… self-control. Right?

Unfortunately, self-control had never been one of Yata’s strong suits.

He let out his breath in an irritated huff.  _Well, whatever – I learned it before, so I can learn it now._  The important thing was not to think about the weird stuff when Saruhiko was around. Like – like wanting to kiss him, or… something.

Yata’s cheeks felt hot; the implications of the ‘something’ had him shying away from the thought instinctively. Even kissing, though… kissing Saruhiko…

What would it feel like?

His brain took that as a cue to summon up that image from the memory again: Saruhiko, asleep against the side of his bed, head tilted back, eyes shut, glasses off, lips parted just  _so_ , like he’d set himself up in a purposefully fetching way. In fact… Yata didn’t have the rest of the memory, so…

So maybe it had been on purpose? He could kind of picture it – Saruhiko opening his eyes just a bit, lids heavy and seductive over them, those slack lips curving up just slightly, and Yata could lean forward and take that unspoken invitation, and… and they’d kiss… and Saruhiko would maybe sneak his arms up and pull Yata down, and he could put his hands on that slender body and… and…

He didn’t know where he was going with that, but his heart was pounding again, and he felt uncomfortably warm.  _I can think about this now, right? He’s not here so it’s okay… right?_  He squirmed a bit on the sheets, torn between embarrassment at the direction his thoughts were taking and that little pleasant twinge that came with thinking about something that turned him on.

It was beyond weird to think that  _Saruhiko_  was the one turning him on.

He couldn’t exactly deny it at this point, but still, working himself up too much was going to be a problem – he was probably going to have a hard enough time facing his roommate as it was, without adding awkward boners to the equation.

 _Just fucking don’t, okay?_  Yata shut his eyes again, feeling his head give one of those unpleasant pulses of pain, and leaned back against the pillow with a sigh. Maybe his body would listen to him now, since it wasn’t exactly 100%. He could hope, anyway.

With his heart still going fast and his mind full of awkward possibilities, sleep was a long time coming.

 

* * *

 

 

It was late in the afternoon before he woke up again – without any dream or memory or anything coming back while he was sleeping. His head felt thick and heavy, but the ache was tolerable and he wasn’t as groggy as he’d been the night before, so things were looking up.

 _Still got the hots for your roommate, though,_  that stupid annoying voice at the back of his head reminded him. It somehow sounded a lot like Saruhiko did when he was taunting him about something or other.

“Shut up,” Yata muttered under his breath, pushing himself up and out of bed carefully. He didn’t want to think about that too much – it was seriously just going to make everything worse.  _I’ll just do what I usually do, and when Saru comes back…_

Well, he’d figure something out.

There were two messages from his mother waiting on his PDA – which was both embarrassing (he was a grown man with a head injury, not a kid staying out late) and kind of heartening at the same time. Yata typed something back that hopefully was reassuring enough, and then left the room.

He grabbed a towel on his way to the bathroom (after some hunting around for where the towels were kept), and felt a wave of irritation when he found a used one flung in the sink.

_Fucking lazy bastard…_

That same irritating little voice chimed in with,  _He used that towel on his naked body,_  and Yata’s fingers froze around a handful of damp cloth.

He’d seen Saruhiko naked before, of course, in school showers and cheap shared bathhouses, but he hadn’t thought much about it at fifteen years old. His mind was cleaner back then, before he started hanging out with adults and piecing together – or being outright told, and then mocked for blushing,  _fucking stupid Eric_  – what things like ‘take it up the ass’ and ‘suck my dick’ implied. Plus, even when he  _had_  learned what those things meant, they weren’t exactly on his mind. It was just stuff that applied to other people – who actually had sex.

Saruhiko had changed a lot since they were fifteen. And now, knowing how  _he_  felt…

Yata was vaguely aware that his fist was clenched so tightly on the towel that his fingers were trembling with the effort. His face felt hot.  _It’s a fucking towel, what the hell?_  The imagined mental image that came with it was killing him, though.

_“As flattered as I am that you’ve paid so much attention to my ass…”_

“Ah, fuck! Goddamnit, Saru!” In a fit of embarrassed frustration, Yata yanked the towel free of the sink, biting his lip against a wave of vertigo as he turned a little too fast, and tossed the offending item at the rack, where it hit the wall behind it and then crumpled precariously against the bar. He scowled at it for a moment, unsure whether or not he was dissatisfied that it hadn’t ended up in a defeated heap on the floor instead.

The ache at the back of his head had increased significantly, and that was starting to piss him off.

“The hell with all of this,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to displace his agitation. A sideways glance at the mirror had him facing his own angry-looking glare, and he let out a short huff of breath, taking a moment to pause for a closer look.

There was a sort of unhealthy, colorless look to his face – like he’d been sick for a while. Probably from being stuck in a hospital bed for so long. Yata’s frown deepened, and he watched the mirror image scowl back at him. There were bruises and scrapes on his arms, and even one kind of nasty-looking brown-purple blotch across his collarbone. Now that he could see them, he was aware that, yeah, they were sort of sore – but random sore points on his body had gotten so common over the years that they felt like background noise in his everyday life. This kind of stuff… this was nothing. It wouldn’t even scar. Not many of his battle wounds did; it wasn’t often his enemies got a serious hit on him.

As if on reflex, his eyes trailed up to the thin white line on his right shoulder.

 _That’s different._  Saruhiko was always the exception. He was good at worming his way through Yata’s defenses – both physical and mental, as it turned out.

The image in the mirror flushed, staring back at him with the echo of his embarrassment. He didn’t really like how it made him look so self-conscious –  _virgin, virgin, virgin,_  that voice in his head taunted him – so he scowled and narrowed his eyes, watching the expression on his reflection turn back to an angry one.

He set the fresh towel on the counter where he could grab it easily coming out of the shower, and stripped off the tank top and boxers he’d worn to bed. Out of the corner of his gaze, his reflection mimicked him.

It had… kind of been a while, since he’d taken a good look at himself. Yata glanced sideways at the mirror again, an odd sort of anxiety forming at the pit of his stomach. He knew his own strength well, so his appearance didn’t matter. It’d been a while since he’d given it more than a passing thought, digs about his height aside. He couldn’t talk to girls anyway, so there was no reason to care.

Apparently it wasn’t girls he should’ve been worried about, though.

 _Whatever, I’m not worried._  Yata turned his gaze back to the shower, deliberately cranking the handle. There was no reason to worry, because this wasn’t going to be a  _thing_. The idea of Saruhiko having romantic thoughts about anyone – himself included – was so unthinkable it was almost funny. His lack of serious muscle didn’t make a goddamn difference, so there was no reason to even think about it.

If – if the sex thing wasn’t a lie, though…

 _No way, it’s totally a lie._  He moved in under the hot water, deliberately squashing whatever thoughts had been forming about the type of person Saruhiko might’ve taken home with him.  _He was trying to get under my skin. Plus, he doesn’t even like talking to other people for more than thirty seconds at a time. There’s no way._

Except… he seemed to get along with those guys at Scepter 4 okay…

 _Whatever! I don’t fucking care already!_  Yata shut his eyes, letting out an aggrieved sigh. It wasn’t worth thinking about. The  _point_  was, Saruhiko was definitely lying, and no sex was happening. And even if it was, it wasn’t happening with  _him_. So it didn’t fucking matter.

_It doesn’t fucking matter… right?_

If that hateful little voice at the back of his head had an answer, it was keeping quiet about it.

After his shower, he heated up some leftover takeout for lunch, and then spent the rest of the afternoon painstakingly cleaning up the apartment – since he wasn’t paying rent, he’d better do  _something_  to earn his room and board, right? Laundry would’ve probably been next on his list, but he wasn’t sure where the machines were – did the building have a shared area? Was it coin operated or did he need something else? Hell, he didn’t even have coins when it came right down to it – unless they were stashed in his room somewhere. He’d have to ask Saruhiko.

Speaking of which… Yata glanced at the digital clock on the oven while wiping down the counters. It was getting late, so the work day was probably over. Soon, anyway.

 _He’d let me know if he was working overtime, right?_  After all that bullshit fuss about him being injured and how he shouldn’t be alone or operating a stove or doing anything for himself…

Okay, to be fair, his head was already protesting just from the stupid little things he’d done so far, but it still sucked.

 _Maybe I’ll play a game or something._  It wasn’t like there was much else to do, and being alone with his thoughts was just going to lead him off in that dangerous direction –  _not thinking about that, shut up, brain_  – so he had to do  _something_. Yata left the cloth in the sink and wandered back over to the console he’d seen before with the shelf full of games beside it.

At least if Saruhiko came home while he was playing, he’d have a distraction handy.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, some things never change,” Saruhiko’s voice said right next to his head, and Yata just about dropped the controller.

“Wha… huh…” He steadied up quickly, feeling a rush of familiar irritation, and hit the button to bring up his inventory screen – effectively pausing the game – before turning to glare. “Bastard! How long have you been there?”

“Hm? Not long.” Saruhiko was leaning against the back of the couch casually, his chin braced on one hand. He’d removed his uniform jacket, and the sleeves of his white work shirt were undone and hanging loose. “Just enough to see you wandering around the wrong area for that mission you’re on.”

That comment irked him just enough to pull his thoughts away from little seed of attraction sprouting at the pit of his stomach. “Just because you’ve played this already and know it all doesn’t mean I need your help, okay?” He cancelled out and returned to the game again, turning his gaze deliberately away before he started to blush or stutter or something. “I can figure it out for myself.”

_Just like these stupid feelings, too – I can figure it out._

“That so?” There was some movement behind him; a few seconds later, Saruhiko sank down next to him on the couch. “Rather than wasting your time with that, want to play co-op mode?”

Yata glanced at him, too surprised to be bothered by the sudden close proximity. “… eh?”

“Well, it’s boring to just watch you flounder around.” He was already picking up the other controller, as if it was settled. “We could even take on some of those idiots online if you want.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d played in co-op mode – after Saruhiko had left, there just hadn’t been anyone else.  _Well, I probably literally don’t remember. It could’ve been last week for all I know._  “Yeah.” The idea was too good to pass up, either way. “Okay.”

“You’re getting killed,” Saruhiko pointed out flatly, tipping his head at the TV.

“Huh? Oh, fuck!” Yata jerked his head back – and, shit, that was a mistake; he had to draw in a sharp breath and shut his eyes against the resulting dizziness. When he recovered, it was nearly too late, and he had to frantically fight back to keep his remaining HP. “Let me – just – let me get to a save point, okay?”

“Save point or death, whichever comes first.”

“Fuck you, just shut up!”

As it turned out, death came first. Their co-op play was enough to make up for it, though.

 

* * *

 

 

“That last guy was so pissed!” Yata enthusiastically raised his chopsticks, still riding out the high from earlier. “I’ll bet he’s still freaking out.”

Saruhiko made a dismissive motion. “Shouldn’t play online if you can’t handle losing.”

“Right?” It was unbelievable how amazing it felt to team up again – even for something as trivial as playing a game. That feeling of the two of them standing back to back against the world… He didn’t realize how much he’d craved it until they were playing. “Unless it’s us – because we won’t lose!”

“Hm.” Saruhiko’s attention was on the food he was carefully picking apart – as if it wasn’t already all just meat in the first place. The corners of his mouth edged up, though.

That might as well have been fervent agreement, coming from him. Yata leaned forward, that old, almost-forgotten excitement forming like the beginnings of a hurricane inside him. “Let’s play again after dinner.”

“It’s late.” Saruhiko clicked his tongue, finally separating an acceptable portion with his chopsticks. “And I’m working tomorrow, so I can’t.”

“Oh… right.” Yata slouched back, disappointed. Right, Saruhiko was working – and he was just lounging around at home, so he couldn’t exactly complain. “Maybe tomorrow, huh?”

“Maybe.”

It was as close to a promise as he’d get, but whatever. Yata couldn’t help but grin to himself. This was the best he’d felt since he’d woken up in that hospital bed, so it would take more than that to break his good mood.

_We really are friends again, after all._

It wasn’t until they’d nearly finished eating that he remembered his question from earlier. “Hey, where do we normally go to do laundry?”

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Whatever – it’s just laundry.” He frowned back, a little miffed. “My arms and legs aren’t broken or anything – and it was just the stove I need to be off the pain meds for, right?”

That telltale ‘tsk’ answered him. “You’re really that eager to fold clothing?”

“It’s not that – it’s just…” Yata shifted a bit, feeling awkward about it. “I’m basically mooching off of you right now. You already said I was doing chores even before this, so I should do whatever I ca – ”

“That doesn’t matter!” Saruhiko’s chopsticks hit his plate with a clatter that seemed louder than it actually was. He glowered across the table, composure gone, his visible hand clenched into a fist.

Yata stared at him, skin prickling.  _… The hell?_  “What – ?”

“The rent doesn’t matter. The laundry doesn’t matter.” Saruhiko snarled the words out practically through his teeth, glaring at Yata as if he’d insulted his ancestors or something. “If neither of us worried about those stupid things, then…”

There was a long, tense pause.

 _Then… what?_  Yata cleared his throat, a little uneasy to be the one breaking the silence. “Saru – ”

“Never mind.” Abruptly, Saruhiko turned his head, shutting his eyes as if to close that glare off from the world. “It’s nothing.”

 _That was so not fucking ‘nothing’._  “Right…” Pushing for more wasn’t going to get him anything – and it came with the high risk of shattering the peace between them. The evening had been really awesome up to that point, so Yata did his best to swallow back his irritation. “Whatever, fine. Go ahead and wear your dirty clothes to work if it’s really that big a deal.”

A little of the tension seemed to melt off of Saruhiko at that. “I didn’t think you’d give in that easily,” he admitted, shifting his gaze back.

“Are you trying to push your luck?” Yata scowled across the table. “I didn’t want to have two ruined dinners in a row, asshole. And it’s not like you’d tell me anyway.” He leaned back on his hands with a sigh. “This will all make sense when I get the right memories back, right?”

“When you get them back, you can tell me.” Saruhiko moved to pick up his half-empty plate, then paused. “Did you remember anything today?”

Last night’s dream immediately flashed back into his mind. Saruhiko’s sleeping face… his cool skin under Yata’s fingers… the rush of longing…  _Fuck._  Yata felt heat rush to his face, and snatched up his own plate, scrambling to his feet as fast as his head would allow to avoid having to look at his roommate again.  _I was doing so well, fuck…_

“Misaki?”

“N-Nothing important.” He moved into the kitchen, dumped the plate into the sink and started up the water, focussing on his task with enough desperate intensity to avoid the confusing storm of his own feelings. “Just – just watching a movie. At my old place. Boring, right? Hah…”

Saruhiko followed him; he could feel that calculating stare on his back, and it made his skin prickle. “What’s the matter with you, then?”

“Sh-Sh-Shut up! Nothing’s the matter!”  _I just remembered that I thought about kissing you, and I pictured you naked and got excited about it – that’s nothing, right? Shit…_  “What do you care, anyway?”

“What do I care?” Saruhiko repeated, and then clicked his tongue. “The reason we have all of these pointless arguments is because you don’t understand anything the way you are now.”

Yata scowled down at the dish in his hands, trying to will away the flush that had spread down over his neck and even to his ears. “Well, what do you expect me to do about it?” he demanded, uncertain if he was more frustrated with the conversation or with himself. “If I could force myself to remember, I would’ve done it by now!”

At least if he remembered everything, they’d be on equal footing. It felt too much like when Saruhiko had left Homra – he was scrambling around the edges trying to figure out the reasons, and meanwhile that bastard knew everything and couldn’t be bothered to give him the slightest hint.

If he remembered, he’d know how to handle this situation.

If he remembered, his feelings wouldn’t seem so strange, new, and awkward.

If he remembered… everything would be easy between them, just like in those memories.

Just like before…

_Why do you have to be so difficult?_

All at once, he was standing in the cold, outside an ornate gate – Scepter 4’s headquarters – with his breath steaming in the air in front of him, his gloved hands clenched into fists and Saruhiko’s maddeningly impassive face staring right back at him. The question hung in the air between them.

_“Difficult?” Saruhiko repeated, in that slow hateful drawl. His face was paler than usual – sickly, even – but he seemed unconcerned with that. “I don’t know what you mean, Misaki.”_

_“Don’t play dumb with me!” Yata glowered at him, pride warring with determination at the direction this conversation was going to take. “I can tell what you’re doing now – you want to rile me up so I forget why I came here! Well, that’s not going to happen!”_

_“Oh? You think so?” Saruhiko offered a lazy smirk, raising both eyebrows condescendingly. “I figured I’d be hearing from you after that incident was cleared up. Isn’t it just to satisfy your ego, though?” He lowered his head with a soft sound of amusement. “You were always hoping to be a hero yourself, right, Misaki?”_

_It was really hard not to rise to the bait – and even harder to keep in mind why his original goal was so damn important._ Remind me again why I want to be friends with this guy? _But he’d made up his mind now, after everything that had happened._

_No more regrets._

_Yata_ _took in a long, steadying breath, the various aches and pains from the past week making themselves known. His body felt stiff; even if he’d wanted to fight, he wasn’t sure if he could manage well. But it didn’t matter. “Think whatever you want. But I know you don’t hate me the way you try to act like you do.”_

 _Saruhiko’s_ _lips thinned at that; he shifted his gaze to the side, and clicked his tongue. “You’re annoying.”_

_Not a denial._

_“Heh – try looking in a mirror sometime.”_ _Somehow, that response felt like a victory – Yata felt a little of the oppression around him lift. “Anyway, I’m not asking for answers or anything like that.” Not like he’d get a response if he was. But, if he was successful, then maybe one day… “I just – I never hated you either.” This was the hard part, even though he’d thought for a long time about what he was going to say. The words still weren’t going to come out the way he wanted. “Can’t we… you know… ?”_

_“’You know’ what?” Saruhiko muttered, still not looking at him. “Just hurry up and get to the point already. It’s too cold to be standing out here.”_

_“I’m getting to it, okay?” Yata snapped, feeling a bit defensive about it. “Besides, you know what I’m going to say already, right?” He didn’t wait for a response, determined to get everything out in the open before he could be distracted. “There’s no reason for us to fight any more. And… I can’t think even you would want to just be indifferent to each other.” Strangely, that thought hurt more than the notion of continuing to fight; he didn’t want to look too closely at that reaction, though. “After everything that’s happened, can’t we move on and start over?”_

_“Start over… is that it?” Saruhiko turned his head to meet Yata’s gaze again, without smiling. “You want to add me back to your list of comrades, right? To give yourself the satisfaction of fixing things.”_

_Yata_ _stared at him. “Satisfaction?”_

_“Am I wrong?” Saruhiko’s tone was deceptively light. “It’s only because I left in the first place that you care so much about us being comrades. If I’d stayed, and we’d fallen into indifference over time, it wouldn’t be such a big deal, would it?” He smiled, slow and vicious, eyes suddenly bright against the unhealthy pallor on his face. “Doesn’t that mean this is only about your wounded pride being settled?”_

_This was kind of what Yata had expected, but it still stung. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, and the still-vivid memory of that uncharacteristically rough voice from behind him echoed in his head._

“I won’t be discarded.”

 _“Think whatever you want.”_ I won’t discard you.  _It wouldn’t have registered at the time, and it probably wouldn’t make a difference now, but at least thinking it strengthened his resolve. “I don’t care about satisfaction, or anything like that. If you won’t agree to be friends now, then I’ll keep trying until you do. Not because you left or because it somehow would’ve been less painful if we’d drifted apart, but because you’re Fushimi Saruhiko, and I” – a wave of heat rushed to his cheeks; he did his best to ignore it, forging on –  “I like you. I’ve – I’ve missed you. I know we can be friends.” He drew in another breath, bracing himself. “Please.”_

 _The expression in front of him contorted, and then soured again; Saruhiko shut his eyes with another sharp ‘tsk’. “Idiot. You_ missed _me?” There was an edge to his voice, something like frustration or agitation. Maybe both. “Don’t make me laugh. Aren’t you always going on about how I piss you off? You’re trying to tell me that’s a lie?”_

 _“Hah! Of course not!” Yata allowed himself to smirk at that, feeling strangely giddy. Somehow… somehow, he had the upper hand now, and his heart was racing with hopeful anticipation. “You piss me off so fucking much, you have no idea. I want to smash your stupid face in most of the time. Plus, you always think you know everything – and half the time you_ do _and it’s really weird and kind of creepy, and I think you’re a fucking psycho, if you want to know the truth.” He paused, then gave another shove at his protesting ego before taking the plunge again, sincerely adding, “I still like you anyways.”_

 _Saruhiko_ _was staring at him kind of blankly, and he took the lack of response as a good sign, so he threw in, “I never stopped liking you – even though, you know, you’re kind of an asshole.”_

_“You’re an idiot,” was the response, but it came in a tone that seemed to warble between bafflement and frustration, which took away a lot of the bite._

_“Takes one to know one,” Yata retorted, “and you’re a bigger idiot. But I still like you.”_

_Saruhiko_ _curled his lip, clicking his tongue again. He was still looking away, with the kind of sullen stubbornness that wouldn’t have seemed out of place on a rebellious pre-teen. “How many times are you going to say that?”_

 _“Until it drills in through your thick skull, and you accept it!” Yata took in that resentful expression; the unwelcoming posture; the contemptuous turn of his mouth._ This is Saruhiko. _It was so familiar he could’ve cried. His voice cracked when he spoke again, but he didn’t mind. “I really like you, you stupid monkey.”_

_The muscles on Saruhiko’s face tensed, and he abruptly shut his eyes again, sighing heavily. It was sharp enough to come from frustration, but the way his shoulders slumped contradicted that. “This is why it’d be easier to hate you,” he said finally, lifting his head with a kind of tired resignation. “I can’t stand how you get under my skin. Who asked you to like me?”_

_“That’s a stupid question.” That giddy, hopeful elation was rising from the pit of Yata’s stomach to his throat; he was so relieved, it felt like he would pass out from the rush of it. He thumped his fist against his chest and grinned back, widely. “I met you, and my heart decided.”_

_For a moment, Saruhiko just blinked at him – and then bowed his head, snickering._

_Yata_ _stared at him, too surprised at the unexpected response to be properly offended. Somewhere at the back of his head, a memory of half-crazed laughter stirred up – he ruthlessly shoved that back down, focussing on the present instead. “Saru… ?”_

_“You really are a hopeless idiot.” That smirk was back again – but without the hateful gleam in his eyes. “Saying ridiculous things like that… What other bad habits have you picked up while I wasn’t around?”_

_“It’s not ridiculous!” There was heat rising again on Yata’s cheeks; he scowled back to cover it. “Those are my honest feelings, you asshole!”_

_Saruhiko_ _hummed, low and mocking._ _“Your honest feelings are B movie material, Misaki.”_

_“What was that? Say it again!” Yata glared back at him, mildly disgruntled. “And don’t call me by my first name!”_

_“Isn’t that what friends do, though?” Saruhiko drawled out, almost too lightly. “Hm, Misaki?”_

_“That’s completely diff – wait, what?” Yata’s eyes widened; the irritation drained out of him all in a rush. He met that cool gaze with something like wonder, hope spiking up at the back of his throat and spearing his thoughts before they could properly form. “Really?”_

_“Weren’t you the one who said you wouldn’t leave me alone until it happened?” Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him. “It can’t be helped, right?”_

_“You…” Yata’s eyebrow twitched. “At least pick a better way of accepting it! I poured my heart out to you, damnit!”_

_“You didn’t set any requirements for how I accepted,” Saruhiko pointed out, unconcerned. “Besides, you already like me the way I am… right, Misaki?”_

_“Urgh…” Yata glared helplessly back at him. “You are so goddamn annoying…” He let out a long breath – and then felt the edges of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was just typical. “But whatever. I’ll take it.” Coming from Saruhiko, it might as well have been a heartfelt confession, after all. “So it’s settled then, right?”_

_He got another raised eyebrow for his trouble. “I thought we’d established that.”_

_“It never hurts to double check – especially with you.” Happiness was already spreading all the way through him, warm and comfortable. Yata looked back across the sidewalk at his oldest friend, and felt like something had clicked back into place in his life. “Let’s go for dinner, asshole.”_

The plate slid free of his suddenly nerveless fingers, hitting the bottom of the sink with an angry-sounding ‘thud’. Yata stared at it as his vision cleared, more than a little shaken. He braced a hand at the edge of the counter and waited for the disorientation that came with the memory to fade.

“You remembered something?” Saruhiko asked, from off to his side.

The sound of that voice was enough to ground him again. Yata turned his head to meet his friend’s cool-eyed gaze, and felt the echo of that warmth from before.  _He accepted it, just like that. It was that simple all along?_  Somehow, it felt like he should’ve known. “You complete fucking prick,” he managed, after a few seconds. His voice sounded choked – but what the hell did it matter, anyway? “I was being totally honest, and all you could say is that it’s B movie material? Fuck you, seriously.”

He got some satisfaction out of the way Saruhiko’s eyes widened, mouth going slack with surprise – but, of course, the moment didn’t last. “I assumed you wanted an honest opinion.” At the least, that lopsided little smile was softer than his habitual smirks. “But if you’d prefer a lie, I can say your ridiculous line moved me to tears and I covered up with laughter. Better?”

Yata scowled at him, without notable effect. “If you were a normal person with actual emotions, that would’ve been the truth!” He twisted his mouth into a smirk. “But you’re just a dumb monkey, after all.”

Saruhiko’s eyebrow twitched. “Oh? And who was it pleading for a ‘dumb monkey’ to just give in and be their friend? You remember that, right,  _Misaki_?”

“Oh, I remember all right.” The smirk didn’t falter; he was going to have the upper hand again, one way or another. “I swallowed my pride and gave it my all, because that stupid monkey wasn’t going to make it easy. And even if he’s an asshole with no actual emotions and a complete under-appreciation for heartfelt honesty, I still like him enough to put my all into it!”

He was mostly expecting to be laughed at again, but after a moment of startled silence, Saruhiko ducked his head, shut his eyes, and let his shoulders slump as if releasing a load of tension he’d been holding onto for way too long.

Yata’s skin prickled; he blinked twice in rapid succession, but the scene in front of him didn’t change.  _What?_  “Sa – Saru?”

As if on cue, that bowed head tilted back up. Saruhiko’s eyes were still closed, but the corners of his mouth edged up. “Idiot,” he responded, voice low, and then looked up and locked eyes with Yata. “There’s no need to announce that now. I know already.”

That gaze – that voice – that  _expression_ … For a moment, it was hard to care that he was staring, because… well…  _holy shit_. How many sides of Saruhiko had he seriously not seen before? There was something touchingly unguarded in all of this; it was uncharacteristically vulnerable, and the sight made his heart clench.

 _Saru_ _…_

Yata felt knots coiling and uncoiling in his stomach; there was a lump in his throat that felt like it was the size of a watermelon. He swallowed hard, heart pounding loudly in his ears, and tried not to think about the soft curve of those lips and how they might feel if he touched them – if he _kissed_  them, even, hell.  _He’s really… really…_

Fuck, he couldn’t even think it.

It was too embarrassing. Overwhelming. Shit. And Saruhiko was standing  _right_  there, looking at him, while Yata stared at him like a drooling idiot.  _All right, whatever, he looks good, I_ get _it – now get over it and stop being obvious, already!_

“Wha – what the hell, Saru? And you say my lines are ridiculous? Heh.” Minimum of stuttering, and the shaky tone of voice was almost unnoticeable – Yata mentally congratulated himself. He braced his hands on his hips – fuck, his palms were sweaty, what the hell? – and tried for a cocky grin. “Looks like you picked up some of my so-called bad habits after all, huh?”

“Mm, I guess.” Saruhiko’s shoulders straightened; his gaze shifted from Yata’s, smile already dropping into a more neutral expression. “It’s late,” he said abruptly, maneuvering around to the sink to rinse his plate off. “I’m going to bed.”

“Huh? Oh.” Yata automatically moved to make room for him, taken aback. “O-Okay.”

Something had definitely changed in the atmosphere; he could feel it.  _Why, though?_  The silence stretched out awkwardly between them as Saruhiko washed and dried his plate, put it away, and turned to leave the kitchen.

“Good night,” he said, without stopping or turning.

“Night...” Yata stared after him, baffled at the sudden switch in mood.  _Was it what I said? Or something else?_  He didn’t think there was anything weird about his response, so… what?

 _Am I too obvious or something?_  That was an unpleasant thought. Yata squirmed a little on his feet, feeling his face grow hot again with embarrassment. The idea that Saruhiko might guess that he’d been having  _those_  kinds of thoughts about him…  _Ugh._  If it was true, he wasn’t sure how he was going to look him in the eye again. Hell, he didn’t really know how he was supposed to do  _anything_  about this. It wasn’t like he had a lot of experience dealing with people he was attracted to.

More like zero experience. Which was probably most of the problem.

Then there was the fact that it was Saruhiko he was attracted to. Which was probably the  _rest_  of the problem.

 _Fuck my life._  He let out a sharp, frustrated sigh and scratched at the back of his head with a certain amount of agitation. It figured that he’d fall for the most difficult person on the face of the planet – as if it wasn’t hard enough fumbling through this as it was. And, yeah, maybe in that blanked-out year he’d reached a point where he understood Saruhiko again – if he’d ever really understood him in the first place; he wasn’t so sure about that any more – but he wasn’t at that point now.

The echo of something he’d had in his head recently flashed back to him:  _“I won’t be discarded.”_

That was… Yata frowned, thinking back. Kind of a memory inside a memory, right? It was confusing enough to make his head give a little throb of frustration. But he’d had that fresh in his mind during the confrontation with Saruhiko, so it had to have been something that was said recently. And they’d talked about ‘that incident’ – some major thing that had happened between them?

What could have made Saruhiko say something like that?

Hell, what could have made  _him_  so sure that Saruhiko had never hated him? The memory-him had been so confident… where the fuck did that confidence even come from?

It was aggravating, not knowing these things. Yata felt his shoulders slump, all of a sudden aware of just how tired he was. Every time he got a memory back, it felt like it just came with more questions and more uncertainty. And here he was, struggling with feelings he hadn’t even known he had, saying or doing all the wrong things and not knowing why or how.

 _Well, I’ll remember it, right? Eventually._  That thought would have to keep him going – well, that and more gaming sessions, hopefully. Or just… more of them hanging out, like before. More easy conversation like in those earlier memories. More of those fond little smiles that made his chest ache and his skin prickle up with anxiety and excitement all at once.

_Fuck, I’m really hopeless, aren’t I?_

But the point still stood – they were living together, and the things he wanted more of would happen, and these stupid little setbacks were just that: stupid and little. Yata felt better thinking about it that way. They’d managed this far – and somehow after that long separation, they’d still been able to get this close again, so they weren’t going to fall apart so easily.

Even if he was thinking of Saruhiko in a way he really shouldn’t be.

 _Whatever._  Yata turned to finish washing and drying his abandoned plate, scowling against the hot flush that came with that thought.  _That stuff isn’t important. I’ll probably get over it, right? I’ll move on? I’ll… I’ll find someone else. Maybe?_

That traitorous little voice at the back of his head whispered at him,  _You_ _never moved on before_ , but Yata stubbornly chose to ignore it.


	4. Chapter 4

_“What a surprise to find you here.”_

_Saruhiko’s_ _wry voice barely registered somewhere outside of the game Yata was playing. He didn’t bother to spare a glance back at the source, though. “Huh? Sorry – welcome back. I’m a little busy, though, Saru, could you just…?” He swore at the screen, trying to maneuver._

_“I think I can keep myself occupied, Misaki.” A familiar weight settled next to him on the couch._

_He really should start paying attention. Yata was kind of dimly aware of that, even as he continued to play. When Saruhiko said his name like that… well… yeah. But he was almost through this stage, and then he was pretty sure there’d be a boss battle, and he’d been waiting for this one, so whatever._

_There was a shift on the couch cushions, and a warm body settled against his side. Hot breath curled tantalizingly against the sensitive skin of his neck, prompting a shudder. Yata frowned, a little puzzled by the sudden close proximity. “Saru?”_

_“You can keep playing,” Saruhiko murmured into his ear. His mouth brushed against the edge just slightly, and Yata had to bite his lip as a little coil of heat spun to life at the pit of his stomach. “I’m just” – one of his hands teased its way under Yata’s shirt, fingers running lightly across his abdomen – “keeping myself occupied.”_

Ah, fuck. _He could see where this was going now. And, to be honest, he liked the idea. A lot, actually. His cock gave a little twitch of anticipation as one of those slender fingers ran teasingly past the waistband of his shorts. But… he was so close… If he could just get to the boss battle there’d be a save point. And then…_

_Saruhiko_ _was planting open-mouthed kisses down the line of his neck, and that wet hot suction was just about driving Yata to the point of madness. His teeth dug into his lower lip as he tried to focus his attention on the screen._ A little more… just a little…

_That deft hand had already made short work of his fly; just as Saruhiko’s lips reached the juncture of neck and shoulder, his fingers were closing firmly around Yata’s half-formed erection through his boxers, pulling a reluctant whine from the back of Yata’s throat as pleasure flooded his system. A few lazy strokes were all it took to bring him to full attention, and his fingers were unsteady on the controller as he desperately tried not to forget what the hell he was doing._

_It was… really fucking difficult. Yata panted, feeling his whole body shaking with effort, his control hanging by a thin thread as Saruhiko’s tongue swiped along the line of his collarbone, fingers snaking through the gap in his boxers. His thumb brushed over the head of Yata’s dick, smearing pre-cum around the over-sensitive skin and bringing up another little needy sound that probably would’ve been embarrassing if Yata wasn’t already so turned on._

It feels so good… so good… I want to… to…

_His fingers hovered indecisively over the controls, head clouded with arousal, tense and quivering as Saruhiko shifted again, wedging one knee behind him and bringing his body flush against Yata’s. There was an unmistakeable hard bulge that jutted against his hip with the contact; Saruhiko breathed into his ear again, “Misaki,” and tightened his fingers just a bit._

_That was it – the breaking point._

_Yata_ _let the controller fall, past the point of caring about save points and boss battles and even whether or not the stupid thing broke when it hit the floor, and turned his head to catch those wicked lips with his, grabbing at Saruhiko’s hips aggressively in an instinctive attempt to surge in and push him down. His partner had both a cooler head and better leverage, though, so the frenzied attempt ended with him pressed up against the arm of the couch instead, with one of Saruhiko’s legs wedged in between his._

_He_ really _didn’t fucking mind. Honestly, being overpowered like this was kind of hot, not that he’d admit that out loud. And he was too turned on to care about the details. Saruhiko’s hand was cupping his dick almost possessively, thumbing the head as his fingers stroked slowly, teasingly along the length of it._

_“Saru,” Yata gasped, as their kiss broke; his hands clenched hard against those slim hips. “Stop… stop teasing... Ngh…” He arched up helplessly as the grip around his erection grew firmer, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. Hot waves of sensitive rolled over him._

_“Misaki,” Saruhiko murmured, into the corner of his jaw, and then –_

 

* * *

 

 

Yata opened his eyes, staring blankly up at his bedroom ceiling. For a moment, his dream-fogged brain seemed to shut down, unable to make a connection between the previous certainty that he’d been on the couch while Saruhiko jerked him off and the present reality that he was lying in bed with insistent morning wood and an uncomfortable damp spot on his underwear.

Realization sunk in all at once.

_Oh, fuck…_

He’d just had a sex dream. A fucking  _sex dream_ , for crying out loud – what the hell was he, fourteen? Yata shut his eyes, letting out a frustrated breath.

Oh god, and it was a sex dream about Saruhiko. He cringed, already growing hot with embarrassment – shit, it was on the  _couch_ , in the apartment they  _shared_. He had to look at that couch every fucking day; they’d sat next to each other on it not that long ago – what the hell was wrong with his brain? Why was he doing this to himself?

_I don’t know, maybe because you fucking want him?_  That stupid little traitor voice again.

It was hard to deny that when the evidence was still fresh in his mind. A little  _too_  fresh, really; Yata could remember the feeling of Saruhiko’s hand closing around him as sharply as if it had really just happened. He shut his eyes and swallowed hard, the corresponding ache between his legs capturing his attention. Those fingers really were as deft as they looked, fuck.

At least, his mind seemed to think they were.

_It felt really real, though._  Yata self-conscious palmed himself through the thin cloth of his boxers, a little ashamed but too turned on to avoid the urge entirely.  _Maybe… maybe it was…_

No. No way. It couldn’t have been a memory – Saruhiko would have said something. No  _way_.

But… if it was…

That thought – the idea that it had all really happened, and he’d been jerked off by his oldest friend on the couch that he’d been sitting on just the other day without realizing – had him reaching into his boxers without a second for reflection, taking himself fully in hand. Yata breathed out slowly, tensing up against the mattress as rational thought shut down and the drive for completion took over.

He hadn’t seen the end of the dream. Anything could have happened. Saruhiko  _could_  have just touched him until he came – or maybe that had been a warm-up. Yata shivered, stroking himself firmly as he remembered the heat and the slickness of Saruhiko’s mouth against his neck.

What would that feel like… down there?

_Hah, yes…_  He could see it in the darkness behind his eyelids: Saruhiko’s head lowering between his legs, those normally cool eyes looking up at him all hot and wicked and  _promising_ , his mouth closing over Yata’s erection, tongue sliding out teasingly like he was lapping at something delicious…

Yata groaned through his teeth, quickening his pace. He was already past the point of no return, pushed beyond his limits with the combination of his dream and its imagined conclusion. There was a familiar tension building in his groin, coiling tighter and tighter as he pictured Saruhiko’s lips and tongue on him, drawing out the corresponding pleasant sensations with his hand…

Orgasm hit, hard and fast, momentarily taking the breath out of him as his body stuttered and shook in the throes of release. It felt  _really_  good, much better than the times he’d done it before – but then, he couldn’t remember ever being so turned on that he’d felt like he  _had_  to touch himself.

Until now.

_Fuck._ Yata sank back against the pillow again, breathing hard, spots dancing behind his closed eyes as he came down from it.  _What’s wrong with me?_  His fingers and lower abdomen were a sticky mess; he drew his hand back with a grimace, pushing aside the covers to avoid spreading it further.  _I’m never like this – what gives?_

He knew the answer, of course. Saruhiko. This crazy stupid thing of his. Dreaming about Saruhiko. Thinking about Saruhiko. Yesterday’s memory had just kind of… let it all out somehow, and now it was out of control.

_How the hell am I supposed to talk to him now?_

He didn’t have an answer for that. Maybe there wasn’t one. He was just going to have to improvise, apparently.

_Ugh, whatever…_

Yata turned his head, wincing a little as it threw back a sharp rush of pain in response. The display on the clock beside his bed told him it was just after noon, and he hadn’t bothered to take a painkiller before bed, so yeah, that was overdue.

_It’s only been a couple of days,_  he reminded himself, sitting up carefully.  _I’ve got enough for a week. And it’s supposed to be two more weeks after that before I go back to work._  Well, back to looking for another part-time job, anyway – he doubted wherever he’d been working before had given him three weeks of leave. And hopefully he’d be able to hang out at Homra again before that. It wasn’t so bad being alone in the apartment when he was spending most of the day sleeping, but once he was past that stage, he was sure it would get on his nerves.

He didn’t know exactly when he’d get red aura control back, though. After the first week? After three weeks? Even longer?

That was a really depressing thought.

There was a package of tissue in the drawer beside the bed; Yata cleaned himself up as best he could, trying very hard not to think too much about his recent actions, and then took one of his painkillers and washed it down with the bottle of water he’d brought in the night before. Outside of his room, the apartment was quiet; Saruhiko would have gone to work hours ago.

_He didn’t wake me up or anything._  It was probably a good thing, considering what kind of dream he’d been having, but he wasn’t sure what had prompted the change.  _Maybe he figured he’d let me sleep? Who knows._

Or… maybe Yata had been making weird sounds in his sleep and he’d decided against it.

That thought brought heat rushing to his face.  _No – no way!_  He didn’t usually talk in his sleep, right? He was a pretty sound sleeper, so it was really unlikely. Besides, Saruhiko was the type who would wake him up anyway, and then make fun of him.

_There’s no way that could have happened, damnit!_

Yata’s PDA buzzed against his wrist, providing a welcome interruption to his thoughts. When he lifted his hand to check the display, it came up as ‘Homra’.

_Kusanagi_ _._  Somehow, he couldn’t help but smile. Of course he’d be checked up on – it was as welcoming as it was embarrassing, having people worry about you. And actually, he was kind of surprised he hadn’t gotten a call from them sooner. Yata clicked the button to activate the phone, and answered enthusiastically. “Hey!”

“You’re sounding lively, Yata,” Kusanagi greeted him. “How are things going?”

“I’m doing great – I’ll probably be back sooner than a week.” That was definitely over-confident, but whatever. He usually healed up fast, so maybe it would be true.

“I guess I shouldn’t have worried, then.” There was a sort of tolerant amusement in his tone. “You’re getting along with Fushimi all right?”

_Define ‘getting along’._  “Uh, yeah… more or less – you know.” Yata scratched at the back of his head, feeling a bit embarrassed about it. “I still don’t remember much, and things are kind of” – he had to think for a moment about the best way to put it – “difficult.”

“Ah. Well, I guess that’s understandable.” Kusanagi was tactful enough to change the subject. “We haven’t been that busy here, so you can relax. Everyone misses you, though.”

From somewhere obviously a ways away from the phone, Yata heard the muffled sound of Eric’s voice saying, “Speak for yourself.” There was some clearly audible laughter in response.

Yata scowled at his PDA. “Can you hit him for me?”

“Just let it go this time.” There was a brief pause; it sounded like someone might be saying something, but it was too quiet for him to hear. “Oh, Anna said to tell you not to worry too much about your memories – they’ll come back soon enough.”

“O-Oh.” He knew that already, of course; the doctor had said so. But hearing it from Anna was somehow more reassuring. When she’d visited him at the hospital, she’d mostly sat beside him in silence while he talked with Kusanagi – but before leaving, she’d patted his hand and smiled at him, and it had left him feeling warm all the way through. “Thank her for me? I… really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Kusanagi assured him. “And, you know, there’s no need to rush to feel better – you’ll just have another job hunt waiting for you, anyway.”

Yata grinned ruefully to himself. “Yeah, I kinda figured three weeks off was pushing it. I was fired, huh?”

There was another of those telling pauses on the other end. “Fushimi never told you?”

Now what? “As if that fucker ever tells me anything.”

“I guess it never came up.” There he was being all diplomatic again. “Your workplace was the building you were in when the accident happened. It’s gone, Yata.”

A cold shudder went through him at that, completely unprompted. “Huh.” Yata blinked, feeling something tug at his brain a bit. It was sort of an ominous sensation – which, considering the subject, made total sense. “Guess I can’t blame them, then.” His voice came out a bit shaky.

A fucking bus crashing into a building, shit. He hadn’t given it much thought, but hell, he was lucky he’d managed to walk out of that with as little damage as he had.

“I wouldn’t think so, no.” Kusanagi still sounded calm and even, which helped somewhat. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry about it for now – just take your time and make sure you don’t push yourself.”

_“Don’t push yourself, Yata – you’re still recovering.”_

The concussion… Anna’s warning… running into Saruhiko… then the strains…

The strains… what…?

_It was dark, and cold, and his head felt like it was going to split open any second. Yata shifted, struggling against what felt like a heavy blanket of sleep covering his brain and preventing him from being aware of his surroundings. It was like his eyes were weighed down with lead._

What happened?

_Focussing on something other than his aching head was a challenge, but he was gradually starting to wake up more, and the reality of his situation was piecing together. He was sitting on a cement floor, wrists and ankles bound tightly with his legs in front of him and his arms behind his back. There was a warm weight behind him, and he’d been tied to that as well, just under his ripcage and around his elbows._

_Someone was talking nearby – several someones, actually – but he couldn’t make out more than a few words. ‘PDA’, ‘King’, ‘asshole’… nothing that really told him anything._

Shit… _He was starting to remember now – right, he’d been with Saruhiko, and that strain had grabbed him. The urgency of his situation now was sinking in._ I can’t use red aura. No one knows I’ve even gone missing.  _Except for Saruhiko, but that wouldn’t help him, because the last thing he remembered was his former friend going down._  They got Saru, too…

_That was enough to force him the rest of the way through to wakefulness. Yata opened his eyes, and then jerked his head up, startled and a bit panicked when he realized he was still engulfed in darkness. The motion brought an angry spike of pain from the back of his skull, and he couldn’t bite back a groan._

_“Hey, Ubou!”_ _A woman’s voice, sharp enough and close enough to make him wince. “I think the little guy’s awake.”_

_“Perfect timing.”_ _That was a man’s voice, drawing closer even as he spoke. Yata felt the movement of the air around him as the speaker came over to stand in front of him, although he still couldn’t see._

_He could feel the reason for it now, though – there was some kind of cloth wrapped around his head, covering his eyes._ They fucking blindfolded me – what the hell?

_“Hey, you – Homra.”_ _Something nudged him just above his bindings – probably a boot, from the way it felt. “Where the fuck is your PDA? Don’t try to tell me you don’t have one.”_

My PDA? _Yata twisted his lips into a scowl, struggling to think. What the hell would they want with that? He had it on him, of course – it was still sitting there, a familiar weight on his wrist. Obviously, these guys weren’t all that tech savvy if they hadn’t recognized it._ Whatever,  _he decided,_ doesn’t matter. _His answer wouldn’t change. He glared into the darkness of the blindfold. “Fuck you! As if I’d tell you scumbags anythi – !”_

_The resulting kick to the stomach wasn’t totally unanticipated, but it still hurt like a bitch, and combined with the jostle to his already-suffering head, he nearly puked in response. It was a struggle to breathe, and his instinctive attempt to double forward was hampered by his bonds._

_Somewhere outside of his own pain, he was aware of the weight behind him shifting around. A soft, familiar-sounding groan met his ears._

Saruhiko!

_“I’ll ask again,” the man was saying, voice hard, “where’s your PDA?”_

_“Go to hell!” Yata managed to gasp out, once he had his breath back. He was starting to feel his confidence return. At least if Saruhiko was there, they could potentially get out of this. Even if he was tied up, he could still call up his aura. And even if he couldn’t, he’d probably be able to think of something. He may have been a traitor, but he was smart, and these guys were clearly idiots. “You’re all fucking dead, you assho – ”_

_The second kick caught him in the ribs, and the pain was so bad he could feel his eyes water. He caught the scream behind gritted teeth, not wanting to give them the satisfaction._

_But it hurt, really badly. Even as he sat there struggling for breath and trying to recover, it didn’t get any better._

_“Stubborn little rat, isn’t he?” another man’s voice commented, almost off-hand._

_“We don’t have time for this,” the first man snarled out, and Yata felt the motion as he crouched down. His hair was grabbed roughly and his head forced back. “Just answer the fucking question, Homra, because when you get right down to it, we don’t actually need_ you _.”_

_His heart was pounding so loud in his ears it was deafening; for the first time in years, Yata was starting to feel less than certain that he’d actually live through this. He tried to wipe that thought from his head, managing to grit out, “I forgot it at home.”_

_“Bullshit!” the man snapped back at him. The grip on his hair tightened painfully._

_Yata_ _twisted his lips into what he hoped was a sneer – it was difficult with his head tipped back. “It’s the fucking truth!”_

_“I searched him, Ubou,” the second man threw in. “Unless he has it up his ass, he probably is telling the truth.”_

_“Why would Scepter 4 even look this guy up, anyway?” the woman added. “He’s just some random Homra punk; you think they’re going to ID him from a PDA snapshot?”_

_A faint, hazy-sounding chuckle came from behind him. “Random Homra punk, is it?” Saruhiko’s voice asked, groggy and with a weirdly sing-song tone. “Playing with fire and playing house, that’s what they do over there, all day long.”_

He’s awake… _Yata felt a little pang of hope. Saruhiko was awake – maybe now they could get out of this._

_The second man barked out a laugh. “That Blue sounds high as a kite.”_

_“He should be,” the woman answered, dryly. “The shot I gave him should have him thinking he’s a pink elephant living in a gingerbread house for the next sixteen hours. He couldn’t put together enough focus to handle that whatever thing they use if his life depended on it.”_

Fuck. _Yata’s heart sank; he listened to the lazy mix of incoherent mumbles from behind him with something like despair._ They fucking drugged him.

_“You could see if he’s got his pal’s number in his PDA,” the second man suggested._

_A little chill ran down his spin at that; Yata fought to keep his face unconcerned as his hair was released and he slumped forward, clenching his teeth against the dual spikes of pain from his damaged ribs and head. He kind of had some idea of what the PDA thing was about now – Scepter 4 could search their database and come up with a location in seconds. He wasn’t sure how they’d know to look for him, but these guys seemed worried about it, so it was obviously possible._

_Anna could look for him too, of course, but that would take longer. And he wasn’t sure if they knew about Anna or not. They were strains, or something, so maybe they had a way to block her. Plus, she wouldn’t even know to look for him – he was supposed to be at home resting._

Saru said he didn’t have my number in his PDA. _Ironically, he was now half-hoping that it was true. The thought made him want to both laugh and cry at the same time; it was the first time he’d ever actually hoped that Saruhiko had in some way discarded him._

_“I checked already,” the woman answered, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “He’s only got Scepter 4’s directory in there, and some random chick – probably his girlfriend. Something Misaki.”_

_And there it was._

_Yata_ _shut his eyes, thankful for the blindfold that would guard some of his expression._ That lying bastard. _He wasn’t sure exactly what to make of the emotions swirling about in his head, but the first thought that came to mind was,_ At least I’m not the only one.

_“Fuck.” The first man stalked away from Yata, clearly agitated. “Fine – fine, we’ll go with it. Gatou’s watching them anyway; we’ll know if they start heading this way. Ishinaka, come with me. Terada, stay here and keep an eye on those two.”_

_“You got it,” the second man responded, and two sets of footsteps echoed off._

_Saruhiko’s_ _head suddenly rolled back onto Yata’s shoulder; he started, feeling his skin prickle. “Saru?” he whispered, hoping to avoid alerting their captor._

_“Misaki,” Saruhiko murmured, and for a second it seemed like he was rational – then he suddenly hummed, light and unconcerned. “You shouldn’t wish for fire, Misaki – you’ll burn up into ashes.”_

_Yata_ _resisted the urge to scream in frustration. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense, goddamnit,” he muttered, squirming helplessly against his bonds. It felt like his ribs were jabbing into his lungs; it was difficult to breathe._

_“Burning, burning, burning,” Saruhiko sing-songed back at him, and then he laughed, high and almost hysterical. “Until you’re not you anymore. Until your world is soot and sand.”_

_The ache in his head was starting to rival the stabbing pain at his ribcage. Yata gave up trying to appear strong – who the hell cared at this point anyway? – and tilted his head sideways to rest it against Saruhiko’s, breathing slow and steady._

_If his eyes were wet, well… no one could see it with the blindfold, anyway._

“Yata?”

Kusanagi’s concerned voice was the first thing to register as he came out of the memory. Yata blinked rapidly, his head giving a confused throb as he took in his surroundings. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his ribcage – no pain.

_It was just a memory,_  he reminded himself, still feeling his heart hammer away. It had to have been almost a year ago, so he’d be totally healed up.

Still, though…

Yata shut his eyes, focussing on breathing.  _That was…_  He couldn’t think of a word. The feeling of complete helplessness. Despair when it turned out Saruhiko was compromised. The frustration of hearing that familiar, doped-up voice from behind him, spouting nonsensical things. His number being in Saruhiko’s PDA after all.

Even closed, his eyes were stinging.  _What the hell?_

“Yata, are you still there?”

It took several tries to find his voice. “Sorry.” Even then, it came out shaky-sounding. “I just had a memory come back, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Kusanagi sounded a little surprised at that. “Something good, at least?”

_Not exactly._  Yata smiled humorlessly to himself, running a hand through his hair. “More like the opposite.” He didn’t wait for a response, plunging ahead without thinking too hard. “You remember when Saru and I were captured by those strains, right? After I got my concussion?”

There was a brief pause. Then, “I can see what you mean about it being the opposite.”

“Right, so you know what was going on.” That was all he needed – Yata rushed onward, almost desperately. “What the hell happened to us back then?”

“Yata…” There was a sigh from the other end of the line. “I can only tell you what happened from my perspective, so I can’t guarantee it’s going to be what you’re looking for.” His voice lowered. “We were contacted by Scepter 4 – off the record, I think. Seri recognized you in a picture sent by the strains – I guess they were demanding the release of one of their comrades. The usual hostage situation.”

“Huh.” It was kind of unnerving, hearing the scenario he’d just been re-living described so casually.

“Anyway, Scepter 4 had already done a location check, but Fushimi’s PDA and yours were turning up on opposite ends of the city. I’m guessing they didn’t recognize your custom unit as a PDA.”  _Yeah, pretty much._  “In any case, Seri wanted Anna to confirm your location. She didn’t exactly say we should raid the place, but with you involved, she had to know it was a foregone conclusion.”

Yata couldn’t help but smirk at that, a little of his spirit invigorated. “Of course!”

“To make a long story short, Anna found you without any trouble, and we pulled the two of you out well before their proposed ‘exchange’.” Kusanagi’s voice turned wry then. “To be honest, the people involved weren’t that bright – mostly, they just got lucky. I think they may have been a bit rougher on you since you accidentally blocked their first attempt on the subway, but if you hadn’t been concussed, it wouldn’t have even gotten that far.”

“It was the same assholes from the subway?” That figured. Yata let out a sharp ‘ch’ from the side of his mouth, disgruntled with himself over the whole business. If he hadn’t insisted on walking home alone… But, whatever. “Did you beat the hell out of them, at least?”

“Scepter 4 ended up handling that.” Kusanagi sounded a bit rueful. “I’m guessing they were especially lucky in that respect. I think just about everyone we took on that little expedition wanted a piece of them by the end.”

“Heh.” It was hard not to feel heartened by that. Yata allowed himself a smile. Homra took it personally when one of their own was roughed up. Even having to be that ‘one’, it still felt good. “Would’ve served them right. Bastards.”

“Well, I can’t say I disagree,” his older friend admitted, “considering how we found you two.”

_You two._  Right. Yata frowned to himself. Kusanagi was right – the things he’d just talked about weren’t the things that Yata  _really_  wanted to know. “They drugged him up. Saruhiko, I mean.”

“Mm.” The confirmation came easily enough. “He wasn’t very coherent when we got to you. From what Seri was telling me afterwards, he spent three days in the infirmary recovering. Pretty nasty drug, whatever they gave him.”

_Three days recovering._  Yata shut his eyes again, and thought back to the memory of Saruhiko standing outside the Scepter 4 gate, while they debated over their lost friendship. His face had been pale and sick-looking… and then there were the aches and pains on Yata’s own body…

It felt like there were pieces sliding into place in his head – all but the last one. Yata smiled to himself, a bit resigned.  _I guess I’ll just have to keep waiting for that one._  “Kusanagi.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

There was another short pause on the other end. Then, “Of course. Any time.”

After they hung up, Yata stared at his PDA for a long moment, debating with himself internally, and then gave up and rolled back into bed.

Sleep came almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t exactly dream – at least, he didn’t remember it if he did – but there were a few vague impressions here and there. Like cool, slender fingers carding through his hair, the snug feeling of arms around him, and the warm sense of another body tucked in between his own arms.

It was nice, really. Yata didn’t think of himself as particularly romantic, but the idea of being loved in that sense was appealing. The little reminders that someone really needed you – that you were so important to them… Yeah, he definitely wanted something like that, one day.

And if it was Saruhiko’s face he pictured, and Saruhiko’s touch he craved… well, that was probably inevitable.

The light was fading when he stirred awake again, and the apartment was still quiet.

_Saru_ _isn’t home yet._  Not that he’d really expected it – Scepter 4 seemed to require long hours even when there weren’t any emergencies.

It felt like his feelings were more settled now – something about the combination of the memory from before and the impressions from when he was sleeping.  _I guess maybe I’m a little bit in love with that dumbass._  Yata grinned ruefully to himself, climbing out of bed. It wasn’t like he had expectations or anything.  _This is fine the way it is. It’s not like he’s ever agreed to live with anyone else._

It was a hell of a lot more than he’d thought he would get, anyway.

There were no messages on his PDA, which he took as a good sign. He typed out something quick for his mother anyway, just in case, and then got up and left the room.

The kitchen was his first stop of the day – Yata briefly contemplated reheating some food before having a shower. He stood with the fridge door open, unenthusiastically studying the remains of the takeout from two nights ago, before deciding it could wait. His stomach wasn’t too keen on that, but whatever. The stash of pre-made food was getting low, anyway.  _I guess I can ask Saru to order some more tonight or something._

The fact that he didn’t have the money to order it himself really rankled. His wallet was depressingly empty, and a quick check on the PDA banking application didn’t give him any better results. As usual: flat fucking broke. The only difference was that he wouldn’t have a paycheck he could count on in the near future.

Well, that and he now had Saruhiko to pay for everything, but that honestly just made things worse. It was humiliating to not be able to pull his own weight. He wanted to do something – anything, really – to make up the debt that was steadily growing between them, but as long as he was still in recovery mode, there was a serious limitation on what that could be.

Hell, he apparently couldn’t even be trusted to do the fucking  _laundry_. That was pretty sad.

_At least another week…_  It was probably better not to think about it.

His head still felt uncomfortably heavy, but he wasn’t groggy – that was probably a positive sign, right? And maybe it was just wishful thinking, but the image frowning speculatively back at him from the bathroom mirror didn’t seem as pale and sickly as before.

Whatever, he’d take it.

When he came out of the bathroom, in fresh boxers and a tank top with his towel slung around his neck, Saruhiko was leaning against the back of the couch. His Scepter 4 jacket hung over one arm and his eyes were on his PDA. He looked up when the door opened, lowering the device. “I hope you left some hot water for me.”

He was ready for this. Seriously. Yata felt a slight prickling on his skin, but that was as far as the awkwardness went. “Yeah, you’re good,” he responded, turning to head back towards his room. “I wasn’t in there that long.”

“Mm, if you say so.” Saruhiko’s eyes were on him; he could feel that gaze on his back, and it was making him nervous. The sooner he got clothes on, the better. “I thought maybe you were jerking off, but I guess I was wrong.”

Yata just about missed the handle for his door; he turned around so fast that his head gave a little throb of pain in protest. “Wha –Huh? The fuck?” He couldn’t have heard that right. “Say that again?”

Saruhiko ignored him, bringing a hand to his chin in mock thoughtfulness. “Then again, it probably still wouldn’t take that long, would it?”

His face felt like it was on fire. Yata opened his mouth, closed it, and stared at his friend, unsure if he was more horrified, embarrassed, or outraged. Anger won out in the end – his eyebrows came down, and he glared furiously. “What the hell, Saru? You fucking asshole!”

“Okay, so it was a lie. Probably.” Saruhiko smiled placidly at him, holding up both hands in a slightly exaggerated gesture of conciliation. “Quite the reaction you had there, Misaki.”

Yata felt his eyebrow twitch. “What the fuck did you expect, saying something like that?”

“Well, that is the sort of thing I’d expect from a virgin,” Saruhiko admitted, tossing his coat on the couch and moving towards the bathroom door, unhurriedly. “Except you’re not a virgin anymore, so what’s your excuse, Misaki?”

He might as well have dropped a fucking bomb. Yata stared at him, uncomprehending. “… eh?”

Saruhiko paused at the door, raising a mocking eyebrow. “’Eh’? Oh, right.” He made a show of snapping his fingers. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Comprehension was starting to creep in, along with a sense of growing horror.  _No way…_  Yata opened his mouth to demand a response, but nothing came out. It felt like something inside of him had died, and was slowly shriveling up, the rest of him following along, into a worthless husk of emptiness.

_What. The. Fuck?_

“Well, that’s a lie, too.” Saruhiko shrugged easily, offering one final smug little smile, before moving on into the bathroom. “Or not. I’ll let you figure out which.”

The sound of the door closing behind him was like the echo of Yata’s brain snapping in half.

“ _Saru_ _!_ ” He instinctively moved to stalk over to the bathroom door, cursing under his breath when his head responded with a warning pulse at the sharp movement. There was murder stewing in his heart as he approached, more carefully this time, not bothering to reign in his temper. “Don’t you fuck with me, you son of a bitch! I’ll fucking kill you, I swear it!”

“He~h.” The muffed sound of Saruhiko’s amused drawl came back to him through the door. “You swear it, huh, Misaki?”

If he could’ve triggered red aura in that instant, he probably would’ve. Yata glared at the unoffending block of wood in front of him, wishing he could project his rage directly onto the person beyond it. “I’m not kidding around, Saru – you’d better fucking tell me the truth, right now!”

“Is that the desperate plea of a frustrated virgin I’m hearing?”

“Fuck you! I told you I’m not kidding!”

“I might be, though.” There was a rustle of clothing from inside. “Instead of wasting time here, why don’t you see if you can figure it out for yourself?”

“Goddamnit, Saru!” He smashed a fist into the door, aggravated. “I’m gonna beat the hell out of you, just you fucking wait!”

“You can try it anytime you want,  _Misaki_.”

_I can’t believe I’m in love with this asshole – what the hell?_  Yata seethed, glaring murderously at the door. “You lying sack of shit!” he growled, and kicked the frame once for good measure before turning and making the frustratingly slow trip back to his room.

His head was insistently protesting against everything that had just happened, and he pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead, grimacing.  _Goddamn monkey!_  Even with the pain, it was still a struggle to control his temper and think rationally about what he’d just been told.

If it was true…  _It’s not fucking true!_

But if it was…  _It’s not; shut the fuck up!_

But…  _No, goddamnit!_

Yata clenched his teeth together, too aggravated to even be flustered. The thought – just the  _thought_  – that he’d maybe somehow managed to have sex sometime in the past year  _and then fucking forgot about it_  was burning inside him like all the fire from every Homra clansman who had ever existed in history, combined. He felt like punching something. Preferably Saruhiko – and preferably right in the middle of his smug fucking face. How the hell did he get off, spouting off something like that as if it was nothing and then refusing to say whether it was true or not?

_It’s gotta be a fucking lie._

That had to be the case. Yata slowed his breathing, struggling to calm himself down. In fact… in fact, it didn’t make sense otherwise, did it?  _I’m in love with him. I’m fucking in love with Saruhiko, remember?_  It was easy to forget when he was this pissed off, but still. The relief that came with that thought was almost staggering; Yata slumped, letting out all of his breath in a rush. There – it had to be a lie, because he wasn’t desperate enough to just sleep with whoever, and he’d gone and fallen in love with his best friend like a dumbass, so that settled it.

_Unless it was with him,_  that sneaky little voice chimed in, and Yata’s whole body flushed with heat.

No. No way.

_That dream, though…_

Totally just wishful thinking. He tried to ignore the little pleasant shiver that came with those thoughts – that he’d maybe slept with Saruhiko; that the attraction might be mutual; that there could be something real between them outside of his confused longing. There was no fucking  _way_. He would know by now, because someone would have said something.  _Saruhiko_  would have said something.

Wouldn’t he?

Yata shifted uneasily, rewinding back over some of the conversations they’d had since he’d woken up in the hospital. Aside from that very first moment, when Saruhiko had been clinging to his hand like he was worried someone was going to snatch it away from him, he’d been frustratingly close-mouthed about just about everything. In fact, the small scraps of information he  _had_  given out had required Yata to basically pry the words out of his throat.

So… no, he really wouldn’t have said a damn thing, would he?  _Goddamnit_ _, Saru…_

Something like a cocktail mix of excitement, anxiety, and uncertainty was brewing up at the pit of Yata’s stomach; he felt like he was going to be sick, and he wasn’t sure if he was upset about it or not. If –  _if_  – his hunch was right, and there was something going on between the two of them, that still left a metric fuckton of questions. Did they actually have a  _thing_ , or was it a drunken one-night stand or something? And if it was a thing, were they together as in…  _together_  together – dating and the whole bit – or were they just fuck-buddies? Had he confessed? Did Saruhiko feel the same way he did? Were they exclusive? Okay, the last one was probably redundant; he somehow didn’t think either of them would share well –  _I wouldn’t; fuck that_  – but that wasn’t the point!

And this was all  _if_  it was true. Besides a gut feeling and a sex dream that may or may not have been a memory, the whole idea was kind of based on nothing at all. If he said something about it and it turned out he was wrong (which was pretty fucking likely, all things considered), he was probably either going to get laughed at or shunned.

Neither possibility was appealing.

Yata frowned at the carpet, brows furrowed and head pounding as his brain tried to come up with a solution that would let him keep his dignity while still getting a straight answer. The only thing that came to mind was to wait for his memories to come back and see if anything turned up, which was unappealing on a number of levels, the most obvious and frustrating being that it meant  _fucking waiting_.

But if he rejected that, then it left him with either straight-up asking ( _not fucking happening_ ), or hoping Saruhiko would bring it up on his own ( _yeah, maybe when hell freezes over he will_ ).

So… wait for memories. As fucking usual.

Yata’s mood was foul when he pulled on his clothes, and it got even fouler when he stepped out of his room and took note of the closed door to the bathroom, the faint rushing sound of the shower audible from just beyond it. He took a few seconds to glare, still hoping beyond hope that it would somehow burn through to the bastard inside, and then turned away with an irritated ‘ch’, set his shoulders, and headed purposefully – rebelliously – for the fridge.

He found most of what he needed inside, and the rest he could do without. Locating his spices and cooking tools wasn’t hard – the kitchen setup wasn’t so different from his old one, and he’d kept everything in more or less the same general place – so within about five or ten minutes, he had food simmering in the wok, spatula in hand and satisfaction in his heart.

It finally,  _finally_  felt like he had some goddamn control.

The door to the bathroom opened just as he was adding some of the vegetables –  _perfect timing_  – and Yata let the corners of his mouth tip up into a smirk. It was probably kind of a lame revenge, but he felt somehow vindicated as he deftly mixed the greens in with the sizzling meat and seasonings.

_I’m throwing out all of the take-out, seriously. This is what you get from now on. Enjoy your goddamn vegetables, you fuckhead._

Unsurprisingly, Saruhiko came directly into the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

It was satisfying to hear the nonplussed tone of voice. Yata didn’t bother to turn around, keeping his attention focussed on what he was doing. “What the hell does it look like?”

“It looks like you’re being an idiot.” There was a slight edge to that voice now, and it didn’t seem deliberate. “I’m not sure why I’m surprised about that. Weren’t you supposed to wait until you’re off the medication before you start cooking again?”

“Before I use the  _stove_  again,” Yata corrected him, smugly. “No one said anything against woks.”

There was a soft ‘tsk’ from behind him. “Aren’t you being too literal?”

“Aren’t you being a dick?”

Saruhiko let out what sounded like an aggrieved sigh. “Is this supposed to prove a point or something?”

The condescension in his tone was enough to trip Yata’s half-suppressed irritation. “If the point is that you’re a dick, then yes, I’m proving a goddamn point!” He flipped some of the contents of the wok with his spatula, lowered the temperature a notch, and reached for the bottle of soy sauce. “I don’t need an audience, so sit the fuck down and let me cook, asshole.”

There was a moment of what felt like startled silence behind him. Then Saruhiko made a small, amused noise and said, in a surprisingly unguarded tone, “You always did try to find something to keep busy with when you’re upset.”

That caught him off guard; Yata felt his cheeks flush, and nearly spilled sauce on the counter. He kept his attention fixed stubbornly on the food. “Wha – who says I’m upset?”

“I can tell you are – you’re terrible at hiding it.” The words came with a kind of simple certainty – not mocking or anything, just… sure. “I guess it can’t really be helped, since I brought something like that up.”

_Tell me something I don’t already know._  Yata swallowed back his instinctive snarky remark, frowning to himself as he tried to catch his bearings again. Saruhiko was being uncharacteristically honest with him; he didn’t want to waste the opportunity just to satisfy his ego. “Why’d you bring it up in the first place?”

“I thought it might trigger something.”

Yata’s fingers froze in the act of turning off the temperature on the wok. He could feel his heartbeat increase in tempo, but managed to keep his voice even somehow when he stated, flatly, “Okay, so… you figured talking about it would help get my memory back.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Isn’t that what I said?”

He ignored that. “You figured talking about  _me losing my virginity_  would help get my memory back.”

“I thought that would get your attention quickly.”

_Fuck you so hard._  Yata gave his food one more half-hearted flip to hide his exasperation. “So would telling me I won a million dollars! Seriously, what the hell kind of memory were you trying to trigger?”

_I lost my virginity to you, didn’t I?_  His less cynical side had somehow worked up into a frenzy of expectation.  _That’s the memory you’re trying to trigger. You want me to remember, so we can do it again, right? Admit it. Just admit it, Saruhiko!_

“Who knows.” That maddening drawl was back. “I also wanted to see your reaction.”

_You are so fucking annoying, oh my god…_  He unplugged the wok – mainly to keep his hands busy so he didn’t turn around and strangle his roommate. The disappointment that came with that obvious evasion was ridiculous – he shouldn’t have expected anything more in the first place. “So, that’s it, then? No specific memory? And you’re not going to bother telling me if it’s true or not?”

“Don’t you think it makes a better surprise?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Yata stared down at the result of his sudden burst of effort, torn between frustration and resignation – then sighed, giving up. “Whatever. I made stir fry, so come and get it.” He tossed the spatula into the sink and tugged the apron loose, pulling the neck strap over his head as he turned around. “Just remember you said you’d eat the vegetables if I – ”

The sentence trailed off into some black pit of oblivion inside his head. Saruhiko was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, with a towel slung across his waist and his uniform hanging off one of his arms.

Other than that… yeah, completely fucking buck-ass-naked.

Yata wasn’t sure what exactly to make of the mix of emotions in his head. The distinct scar over Saruhiko’s heart both drew his attention and made his eyes want to shy away; he wasn’t sure if it was his own bad memories or just plain and simple discomfort with how poorly the wound had healed. Either way, he wasn’t eager to dwell on it.

But if he didn’t have that to focus on…

It was hard to say if it was more outrage or hormones that had all the blood rushing to his head with a sudden ferocious speed.  That… that towel was way too short, and the tie didn’t look very secure, and Saruhiko’s skin was really pale and he was so skinny but it didn’t look that bad, actually, and Yata’s fingers were itching, because he kind of wanted to touch… touch…

“If you what?” The voice sounded like it was coming from a different room.

He blinked rapidly, and the fog seemed to clear from his head. The reality of the current situation – his roommate standing there with just a towel on and him ogling away like some kind of drooling idiot – struck all at once, and he could feel his face flare up. “Wh – Wh – Why aren’t you dressed?” he blurted out desperately, more to cover his embarrassment than anything.

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him, and Yata became aware all of a sudden that he was not even wearing his glasses. The sight just made him even more flustered; it wasn’t like the glasses made Saruhiko less attractive or anything, but… well… this was a new look, that was all, and he wasn’t used to it. “I just came out of the shower.”

“Yeah, but – ” Yata wasn’t sure where he was going with that; he really  _shouldn’t_  have been so surprised and bothered by the display of naked skin in front of him. Actually, his reaction didn’t even really make sense if he didn’t factor in his stupid awkward feelings. They’d seen each other naked more times than he felt like counting in the past.

_You weren’t in love with him in the past…_

Yata averted his eyes deliberately, scowling at the fridge in an attempt to regain some sense of dignity. He was painfully aware that his cheeks were still flaming and his heart was beating erratically. “Just – just go put pants on or something! You can’t eat dinner in a towel!”

“I know that.” Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Fine, I’ll go change.”

“R-Right, you do that.” It came out as a sort of nervous mutter, but Yata was too preoccupied to care much. He risked one quick, guilty glance at his friend’s retreating back – yup, okay, the towel was just as unreasonably short on that side too – before wrenching his eyes back to safe territory again. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling more shame or embarrassment, but that mental image wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

_I swear to god, if this ends with another sex dream…_

The door to Saruhiko’s room shut behind him, and Yata brought his hands up to his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. His head pounded at him in warning; he felt suddenly exhausted, as if all the frustrated energy he’d been holding onto had drained out of him at once.

Being in love sucked. So far his experience with it had included embarrassment, frustration, extreme awkwardness, and then more embarrassment and frustration over the awkwardness. Nothing that was actually  _good_  had come out of it.

_The good stuff only happens if the other person loves you back,_  his brain supplied, unhelpfully. Yata lowered his hands, scowling at the fridge for a moment. Right, yeah, all those cheesy things about love being awesome relied on having  _mutual_  feelings and being in stable relationships and all that other shit. The word for what he had was ‘unrequited’, and it wasn’t talked about nicely.

Not like there was anything he could do about it, though.

Yata sucked in a breath and let it out in a rush, too tired to be frustrated. He would just have to manage somehow – that was all there was to it.

With that in mind, he moved towards the cupboard to pull out the plates.

Saruhiko returned as he was laying things out on the table, in comfortable-looking slacks and a plain sweatshirt. His glasses were back, but his hair was un-styled, and Yata was simultaneously reminded of both their time together before things had turned complicated and unpleasant between them and that moment in the hospital when Saruhiko had clung to his hand and stared at him with desperation. The combination did some funny things to his stomach, which he tried to cover up by slumping down into his seat and fixing his attention on his plate.

Seriously, this period of awkwardness would end eventually, right? It was really annoying.

Saruhiko sat down across from him, looked down his plate of mixed meat and vegetables without particular enthusiasm, and clicked his tongue. “Thanks for the food,” he mumbled, somehow managing to put whatever comments he  _might_  have made directly into his tone.

Yata fixed him with a flat stare. “You’re welcome,” he answered in the same spirit, keeping his voice low and deliberately even.  _Go ahead and say it – I dare you._

That was the extent of their dinner conversation for the most part – although the silence wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Yata suspected that the way Saruhiko maneuvered his meat into bundles around some of the greens on his plate before scooping it up with his chopsticks was a peace gesture, so he did his part and kept quiet about it. The meal wasn’t anything spectacular, anyway – it hadn’t been more than a quick, easy way to channel his frustration – but he felt a little better about himself when eating his own cooking.

At the very least, it was worth the persistent, dull pounding against the back of his skull.

When the dishes were cleaned and the remains of Saruhiko’s dinner (all vegetables, go figure) had been added to the container of leftovers stowed in the fridge, it was a bit of a surprise when his roommate actually turned to him and said, “Still wanting to play co-op again?”

Yata took a moment to shove the dream from that morning as far to the back of his mind as he could get it.  _I am not going to let things get weird, all right?_  “Yeah,” he agreed, and summoned up a smile despite everything, because there was no way he was letting unrequited feelings get the best of him – he was going to be happy, damnit, and that was all there was to it. “Okay. Let’s do it!”

He still had the better part of a year’s worth of memories to get back, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

_Yata_ _wasn’t really sure what he’d been expecting the moment before he lost his virginity to be like – falling down onto the bed in a rush of fervent kisses while their clothing magically dissolved, maybe? – but he was pretty sure that being propped up on his knees and elbows with his hands clenched into fists, his face burning with embarrassment, and anxiety churning in his stomach wasn’t it._

_“You’re not supposed to be so tense,” Saruhiko mumbled into his ear, biting lightly at the soft shell of it. The sensation sent a little shiver down Yata’s spine, but did nothing for the rigid set of his muscles. “It shouldn’t hurt that much if you relax. Probably.”_

_“I’m – I’m trying, okay?” That came out more defensive than he would’ve liked; Yata bit his lip, automatically tipping his head to the side as Saruhiko pressed kisses into the corner of his jaw. It wasn’t as easy as it sounded, relaxing in a situation like this._

_Even if he had been the one to ask for it._

_It wasn’t that he didn’t like the way things were going – actually, he liked it a lot; his erection hadn’t even flagged, despite his nerves. He wasn’t particularly bothered by not being “on top” or anything; he hadn’t had expectations one way or another going in, although he’d thought about it a lot, both ways. Honestly, it had kind of been a pleasant surprise when Saruhiko ended up taking the lead, because Yata was always the one initiating everything in their relationship. It wasn’t like he minded or anything – that dumbass had never been good with admitting that he had actual emotions – but it was still gratifying to get solid evidence that his desire was reciprocated. Saruhiko rolling him onto his back and planting desperate, sloppy kisses down his neck while simultaneously groping blindly at every inch of skin he could reach had been such a turn-on that being on the bottom had actually started to seem pretty exciting._

_It was just… now that he was naked and on his knees and this was actually going to_ happen _, it felt like every insecure thought he’d ever had about sex was screaming at him in his head, and he just… couldn’t shut them up._

_“Maybe it would be better if we were face to face,” Saruhiko murmured. His chest was pressed close to Yata’s back, and his skin felt hot. One of his hands was running lightly – almost tentatively – over Yata’s cock, and it felt delicious and promising – a little teaser of things-to-come, hopefully. “Should we try it?”_

_“It’s – it’s fine, just give me a minute! This position’s easier, right?” He was sure he’d completely lose his nerve if he had to make eye contact now. Yata shut his eyes, breathing slowly. Against the curve of his backside, he could feel the hard press of Saruhiko’s erection, and that was both erotic and nerve-wracking._

_“Misaki…” His name came out as part of a soft exhale of breath against his jawline. Saruhiko pulled back a little, the hand on Yata’s dick stilling. “Misaki,” he repeated, planting a kiss at the base of his neck._

_It was rare for him to be so… well… nice. But then, this was new for both of them, right? Yata breathed out, feeling his muscles relax a bit. “Saru,” he responded, voice coming out soft and a bit unsteady._

_That was right – they were doing this together, after all. It wasn’t just about his first time._

_Saruhiko hummed lightly against his skin. “Would you feel better if I tried to talk dirty?”_

_“Fuck off.” Yata huffed out a surprised laugh; the idea of Saruhiko talking_ dirty _was just too ridiculous. “I can’t think of a better way to kill the mood, you dumbass.”_

_“Good. I probably would’ve choked telling you those kinds of things.” One final kiss to his shoulder, and Saruhiko was drawing back, the hand that had been touching Yata pulling away to brush over his hip. “You look pretty nice on your knees like this, though.”_

_He could feel his face growing hot again. “Sh-Shut up! Don’t say things like that!”_

_“It’s a compliment, you know.” There was the snap of a bottle lid behind him; Saruhiko paused, then added in a lower tone, “I want to see you in ways that no one else will. Doing the things you only do with me.”_

_The raw honesty behind those words was what undid Yata; he bit his lip against a moan. “I – me, too,” he admitted, shakily. It was kind of crazy how closely those words echoed his earlier thoughts. He made an effort to swallow back his embarrassment and respond properly. “Saruhiko, you know… you know…”_

_“Yeah,” Saruhiko murmured back, while he was still fumbling with trying to force the words out. A slicked finger probed at his backside, brushing almost hesitantly at the sensitive flesh. “I probably know. Misaki.”_

_Yata pulled in a stuttering breath, but was able to force the instinctive tension out of his muscles by focussing on the flow of conversation. “I guess I’ve finally drilled it through your thick skull, then,” he managed, voice rough._

_“I don’t need to hear that from you.” In that tone, it might as well have been a statement of endearment. Implicit permission granted, that finger wormed its way past the ring of muscle and inside._

_It didn’t hurt, but it definitely felt weird. Yata shut his eyes again, adjusting to the intrusion. “Shut up,” he mumbled, without heat._

_The finger withdrew, to be replaced with two. “Shut up yourself,” Saruhiko responded, a little too breathily to be properly snarky. “Virgin.”_

_Yata swallowed hard, letting the sting of being stretched pass before trying to respond. “Can’t – can’t believe you’re calling me that_ now _. St-stupid monkey.” He couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp as the fingers scissored and moved inside him. It felt weird still… but…_

_It was just – it was really intimate. And – and kind of… kind of…_

_“If I can’t call you that now, then when?” Damn, and Saruhiko sounded just as out of it – his other hand braced itself on Yata’s hip, noticeably shaky, while he pulled back again and went in with three fingers instead._

_“Ha… How about… never?” There was definitely more of a sting with three. But it wasn’t so bad. Yata leaned forward to rest his head against the mattress, panting as he adjusted again. This was his best friend, the person he was closer to than anyone, the person he’d gone to hell and back both for and with, and he wanted this. He seriously wanted it. His hands fisted against the sheets, and he swallowed again. “F-Fuck, Saruhiko…”_

_“Misaki…” Saruhiko slid his fingers out again, leaning forward to drape along his left side. The hand that had clutched at his hip rested alongside his clenched fist, and warm breath tickled the side of his cheek. “Look at me.”_

_It was too unsteady to be a proper demand, but somehow that made it more compelling. Yata lifted his head, turning to meet his soon-to-be-lover’s eyes. Saruhiko was flushed, and his gaze was heavy-lidded, dilated pupils clearly exposed without his glasses, lips parted, looking as wrecked as Yata felt._ He’s like this because of me. _His neglected cock gave a little twitch of anticipation; without thinking, he twisted around, leaning onto his right hand so he could raise the left to pull Saruhiko’s head down and take his lips in a clumsy, almost frantic kiss._

_A small, low moan was muffled against his mouth; he could hear slick-sounding noises and felt telltale motion beside him. Saruhiko broke the kiss, shifting to right himself over Yata’s back, and breathed out, “I’m putting it in.”_

Fuck, don’t sound like that. I’ll lose it, seriously. _Yata braced himself on both elbows again, and pushed back as he felt the tip of Saruhiko’s erection pressing into the cleft of his ass. His own cock was leaking pre-cum and the urge to wrap his hand around it and get himself off to this was strong. “F-fucking do it already, Saru!”_

_Saruhiko’s hand rested on his hip again, holding him in place as he pressed in. The huff of breath he let out was sharp; those restraining fingers shook._

_It hurt, obviously, but Yata had more or less been ready for that. Being so turned on helped; the pain felt more strange than truly unpleasant. It was weird having something go_ up _that way, but not exactly bad. The pace was slow enough to allow him to adjust; he unclenched his hands, pressed his forehead against the mattress again, and shut his eyes, releasing the last of his nervous tension._

_It felt good to let go. To just accept, instead of forcing himself._

_Saruhiko bent over his back again, propping himself up with his free hand and breathing erratically against Yata’s shoulder blade as he sank all the way in. He was trembling noticeably – from the sensation or from the effort of holding himself back, it was hard to tell. A low, almost desperate-sounding moan was muffled into Yata’s skin; the hand that had rested on Yata’s hip circled around his waist tightly. Possessively._

You could just say it. _He almost could have laughed, even in the middle of it all._  I get it, you know? _“Saruhiko.” His voice was rough, but it didn’t matter._ You’re mine. You gave yourself to me willingly, so you’re definitely mine.  _But he wasn’t going to voice it, either. “I won’t fucking break. Move.”_

_The shaky exhale against his back sounded suspiciously like laughter. “Impatient as ever,” Saruhiko murmured, tightening his hold for a second before easing off again. “How typical, Misaki.” He drew back, sliding out of Yata’s body almost all of the way before pushing back again._

_The slight sting that came with it barely registered, but the strangeness – the sensation of being thrust into, of Saruhiko moving inside him – was enough to make him gasp, even as his partner dug unsteady fingers into his hip, mouthing at the jut of his shoulder blade. Those lips and tongue felt impossibly hot._

_“Fuck,” he groaned, past the point of feeling any embarrassment at the harsh arousal coloring his own voice. “Saru…”_

_“Misaki,” Saruhiko breathed out in response, almost wonderingly, and pulled back to thrust again, drawing gasps from both of them this time as he came in harder._

_It took a few tries to find a rhythm, but instinct kicked in eventually. Saruhiko’s pace was slower than Yata was used to, as if he enjoyed drawing things out rather than rushing towards climax. He was vocal in an understated way, making little sexy noises and repeating Yata’s first name over and over like it was a prayer._

_It was an incredible turn-on; that, more than the strange, erotic sensation of being fucked, was what had him giving in to his own urges and reaching back to take himself in hand. He couldn’t bite back a moan when the first rush of pleasure came, measuring his strokes without really thinking about it to match the pace of Saruhiko’s thrusts._

Shit. At this rate…

_Yata moaned again, too caught up in sensation to hold himself back. He was past the limit of his control already, rushing headlong for that peak with an intensity he was unfamiliar with. “Saru,” he managed, struggling for some coherency in the midst of a veritable storm of stimulation, “I…”_

_Orgasm caught him before he could decide how to finish that thought, wiping whatever it might have been out of his head entirely as he cried out into the sheets, jerking reflexively while pleasure pulsed through him. His vision blurred and for a few seconds he could only pant, mind blissfully blank._

_Saruhiko continued to fuck him right through it, at a pace that felt almost frenzied, and Yata’s over-sensitive body twitched helplessly in response, fingers clenching and breath hitching as he fought to come back to himself properly. It was only a few short seconds later when Saruhiko thrust into him forcefully, stiffened up, and then shuddered as he came, gasping out a rough approximation of ‘Misaki’._

_There was a moment – just a moment – when they were both still._

_It didn’t last long. Saruhiko slumped bonelessly forward in the wake of orgasm, leaning heavily on Yata’s back as he fought to catch his breath. Yata’s legs and arms were trembling, shoulders aching with the strain of holding his position for so long, and the additional weight just wasn’t going to work. He leaned sideways and let them both fall against the bed, Saruhiko’s softening cock sliding out of him sloppily as they landed._

Holy fuck. _The first coherent thought to enter his head. Yata let his breathing slow, drained of all his energy. His body felt heavy and kind of gross now that the high from earlier was fading, but a sudden urge to look at his partner’s face had him shifting over onto his back and turning his head despite everything else._

_Saruhiko’s gaze met his, face still flushed and eyes heavy-lidded. It was the kind of look Yata sometimes tried to picture on him when he was jerking off – but the reality was way fucking better. Especially just after doing… that._

We seriously just did it. Sex. Together.

_It was almost hard to believe. And it had felt really good, too, even being on the bottom. Yata felt the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth and didn’t try to resist it, a mix of triumph and sated frustrations and probably a bit of love mingling around in his belly. It didn’t even bother him when Saruhiko raised his eyebrows in return._

_“Next time, we gotta do it face to face.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Yata’s transition into wakefulness was sudden – maybe it was something to do with being in the same bed both in his dream and in reality. The imagined words were barely out of his dream-self’s mouth before his eyes were opening and he was staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom with blank incomprehension.

_Fuuuuuuuck._

Another goddamn sex dream.

 _No. You know what? Just no._  He narrowed his eyes, feeling a kind of stubborn certainty roiling in his stomach.  _There is no way I dreamed that up. I was on the fucking bottom, for fuck’s sake! How the hell would I have any idea what that feels like?_

And what kind of stupid sex dream would have him starting off so awkwardly? Yata scowled, a little peeved at his dream-self for that.  _Former_  self, rather.Because it was definitely a memory. If his imagination had spun that up, either he should’ve been confidently handling everything in a strong, manly fashion or Saruhiko should’ve been servicing him in a much sexier way.

Not that he really hated the outcome or anything… A now-familiar rush of heat rose to his face as he considered some of the details. At least they’d been on an equally inexperienced level. And Saruhiko had been turned on – he’d wanted him. A lot, if his reactions were anything to go by. Yata squirmed, a little twinge down below reminding him that his mental satisfaction hadn’t exactly translated to real-life relief.

Even now, with just a handful of memories, he still kind of had a weakness for the idea of Saruhiko lusting after him. If he could somehow remember how to trigger it…

That was a tantalizing thought.

 _Quit getting distracted._  He was going to end up like he had yesterday if he wasn’t careful, and Yata wasn’t sure if he could handle the hit to his pride two days in a row. Self-control, damnit!

The main problem was how to bring this up with Saruhiko. Yata considered that for a moment, still frowning up at the ceiling. What the hell should he start with?

‘So, I’ve been having these sex dreams about you that I think are memories…?’  _No._

‘Question: we’re totally fucking, right?’ _Hell no._

‘Theoretically speaking, if I asked you to kiss me…?’  _Fucking what? No._

‘That thing about me losing my virginity – that was with you, wasn’t it?’  _Lame._

‘Hey, so are we together or something?’ _Yeah, still kind of lame._

There had to be a better way to do this. Yata pushed himself up carefully – the sense of heavy, dull pain lurking at the back of his head was getting less obvious, but sharp movements still didn’t seem like a good idea – and slid the covers aside, mind still working on the problem. Sometimes actions were better than words, right? Maybe he should start off with just… doing something. Like – like holding hands.

Or maybe kissing…

The thought brought another hot flush. Seriously, just going up to Saruhiko and planting one on him?  _I don’t know if I could do that._  Even if he was about 99% convinced that they were together, it was still embarrassing, damnit!

So, what else…? Yata shifted his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up slowly.  _Guess I could try to get him to admit it first._  That would probably be a losing battle, though – Saruhiko had pretty well raised ‘stubborn’ to an art form. Plus, back before Homra, he’d always tried to keep himself distant, even around the people he liked – or maybe  _especially_  around people he liked. And everything in the memories Yata had gotten back indicated that, if anything, that habit had gotten worse rather than better.

Well… everything except maybe that last memory.

He couldn’t help but squirm a little on his feet with that thought, and moved to pick out some fresh clothing so he didn’t focus too much on his embarrassment.Unfortunately, that unpleasantly smug voice at the back of his head had other ideas.  _If you could figure out how to bring that mood out again…_

Yata clenched his teeth against that thought, tossing a shirt and shorts onto the bed.  _Fuck no._  No way in hell was he going to make an ass of himself trying to seduce his fucking roommate.  _He’d figure it out in like five seconds, and I’d never hear the end of it._

If it worked, it would be really hot…  _It won’t work, so shut up!_

That kind of eliminated all of his options, right there. Yata scowled at his clothing for a moment, disgruntled.  _This is going to be a pain no matter what, isn’t it?_  He probably should’ve guessed – this stupid romance stuff was complicated, and Saruhiko being involved didn’t help.

Well, whatever – there wasn’t much he could do about it.

 _At least I’ll have time to figure it out._  He pulled on the clean shirt, shorts, and underwear, considered the painkillers for a moment before deciding against it, and then headed for the door.  _He’ll probably be at work until late again, so I don’t have to worry… about…_

That thought trailed off into oblivion as he opened his bedroom door and found the exact person he was expecting to not have to worry about sitting at the table with a book in his hand, an empty plate shoved forward in front of him, and a mug of something steaming sitting to the side.

Yata froze in his tracks, too surprised to do more than just stare for the first moment.

Saruhiko glanced up from his book and spotted him. “Morning,” he greeted lazily, “I guess. It’s past lunchtime already – I was wondering if you were going to sleep all day.”

The shock that had immobilized Yata lifted. “What the hell are you doing here?” he blurted out, mildly aggravated at the unexpected intrusion.

He got a raised eyebrow in return. “I live here.”

“I know that, you idiot!” He scowled, irritation rising. “Why aren’t you at work?”

“It’s my day off.” Saruhiko shrugged, closing the book. He was dressed in casual clothing again, but his hair had been styled as if he was going out. “I thought I told you about that yesterday.”

Yata felt his eyebrow twitch. “No, you didn’t.”

“Huh.” He didn’t seem concerned; if anything, he looked ready to dismiss the conversation altogether. “Well, now you know.”

“Yeah, thanks for the fucking warning!” Yata let out a long, frustrated breath, thoroughly annoyed by the way his anticipated ‘time to figure shit out’ had been disrupted. “What if I’d walked out of my room naked or something, huh?”

“So what if you did? You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen.”

Yata narrowed his eyes, studying his roommate’s bland expression. That… didn’t actually have to mean anything; they were both guys, after all. Bathhouses, hot springs, change rooms… Plenty of places where Saruhiko could have seen it all, in a completely innocent manner – and that didn’t even include the times he’d definitely seen Yata before (not that it really counted at fifteen; he’d grown, right?  _Right?_ ). Hell, he might have meant it in a ‘we’re both guys – we have the same equipment’ kind of way.

_But that’s not how he actually means it, is it?_

Saruhiko raised both eyebrows at him, and Yata belated realized he’d been staring silently for just a bit too long. “Something I can help you with?”

 _You could admit to being madly in love with me…_  A sudden, clear mental image of Saruhiko’s flushed face from his dream bludgeoned its way into Yata’sthoughts; he could feel his own face grow hot in response, and had to look away. “Never mind,” he muttered at the carpet.

“If you say so.” Saruhiko’s tone was bland, but his gaze felt sharp.

Yata scratched the back of his head, feeling strangely exposed. “I’m getting some food,” he announced, hoping to cover his embarrassment, and turned to head for the kitchen. “There’s still some leftovers in the fridge, right?”

He’d think about how to address this later. Maybe even tomorrow; if Saruhiko was going to be around all day, it would really be hard to focus properly. _Can’t be helped, I guess._  At least maybe they could talk or… something. Gaming sounded good. Watching TV, even. Something casual and easy that didn’t involve awkward conversations. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some time together, right?

 _Except that you could really be spending that time_ together _._

… If only he could figure out how to shut that part of his brain up.

“Look and see for yourself,” Saruhiko was saying, in answer to his question.

“Yeah, thanks.” He tossed an irritated frown in that direction while making his way to the fridge. “Jerk.”

“You’re the one who was questioning whether I’d eaten it all.” He’d already turned back to his book. “Maybe you need to stop being so judgemental,Misaki.”

Yata stopped to stare at him with exasperation. “You’re seriously telling  _me_  to stop judging people?  _You_ , of all people?”

“I’m in a position to recognize it.” Saruhiko still wasn’t looking at him, but the corners of his mouth edged up in what looked like a sardonic little smile.

“Right, whatever.” Yata turned back to the fridge again, taking note of the selection. “I think we need to order more takeout – unless you want me going against the doctor’s orders tomorrow.” He frowned. “Not that I’d mind.”

“I’d mind – you’d probably pass out and set the apartment on fire.”

“Fuck you – I’m not going to pass out!” He glared into the fridge for another moment before pulling out what was left of the takeout. “I’m already sleeping most of the time anyway, it’s not like I need more.” Kicking the fridge door shut behind him, he set the trays on the counter. “Plus, not being able to do stuff for myself is pissing me off.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, setting down his book. “You’re still recovering.”

“I’m  _fine_.” Yata was pretty sure he was going to lose this battle, but he at least wanted to make his frustration clear. “Anyway, I don’t need a lecture – I’ve been resting, okay? I’m not touching the stupid stove, and I’m not doing the stupid laundry. I’m being so goddamn careful it’s driving me crazy, so you can just fucking relax.” He turned his attention back to the takeout, scowling. “That doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”

For a moment, that seemed to be the end of it. Just a moment. Then, in a tone so soft and reluctant that it could barely be heard, “You weren’t fine.”

Yata halted in the middle of loading a plate, lifting his gaze again. “What?”

Saruhiko was staring pensively off into the distance, his chin resting on one hand. “You weren’t fine,” he repeated, without much additional volume. It was hard to place his tone. “They weren’t even sure if you’d wake up, at first. There were questions about long-term hospital care. And you were just lying there, looking broken.” He slid the hand down and tilted his head, glaring out of the corner of his eyes. “You  _weren’t fine_.”

This was the first he’d heard of this. Yata furrowed his brows, trying to think back to what Kusanagi had said about his hospital stay. “I was only unconscious for – ”

“Thirteen hours,” Saruhiko interrupted, flatly. “You think that’s nothing? Do you have any idea what those thirteen hours were like?”

There was something in that resentful glare that brought Yata’s hackles down. The automatic response that sprang to his lips – ‘I didn’t ask to get hit by a bus; why are you taking this out on me?’ – died before he could voice it. Behind the irritation and the inexplicable moodiness that characterized his best friend, he thought he saw a feeling he recognized and immediately identified with in that expression. It made him think of long days at Kusanagi’sabandoned bar, alone and feeling lost, his longing and grief so sharp it never seemed to stop cutting into him. That small, vulnerable thing that never quite left his heart, always lingering on the edges of his happiness as if waiting to pounce.

He swallowed around a lump in his throat, and tried to think of something to say.

Saruhiko wasn’t going to wait for him, though. “Then you wake up, finally, and you don’t remember anything.” He shut his eyes and made a soft, amused noise. “Ironic, isn’t it? You were the one who pushed so hard for this, and now you’re the one who forgets it all.” When he opened his eyes again, the smile he directed at Yata was cutting. “Almost like a revenge you planned out, wouldn’t you say?”

That sent a chill down his spine; he stared back, appalled. “What the  _fuck_ , Saru? Are you serious?”

“Who knows.” Saruhiko pushed himself lazily to his feet, leaving his book on the table, and the smile twisted into a smirk. “Come to think of it, maybe you’re not smart enough to think up something like that, Misaki.”

This was better. Yata felt like he could breathe again, back in familiar territory. “Shut up! Only someone like you would think up a twisted idea like that!”

“Hmm?” Saruhiko drew that amused noise out, making his way into the kitchen. His smirk had the faintest hint of self-mockery, and he still wasn’t quite meeting Yata’s gaze. “You might be right about that.”

Somehow, that was unsettling; Yata covered the feeling up with a brash, “Of course I am!” In an effort to move past the subject, he added, “Anyway, I don’t know what you’re so worried about – I’m not going to off myself on a fucking stove.”

Saruhiko raised a mocking eyebrow. “But burning down the apartment still isn’t out of the question?”

“Shut up.” Yata scowled at him. “My  _point_  is, I’m not going to push it, even if I complain, so you can quit getting all bent out of shape over every little thing. Okay?”

 “I think you’re honestly the first idiot I’ve heard who referred to getting hit by a bus as a ‘little thing’.”

Yata’s frown deepened. “You know what I meant!”

“Sometimes I wonder if you even know what you mean half the time.” The words were light, but there was an edge behind them – reflected in Saruhiko’seyes as he studied Yata’s face. “You should hurry up and get your memories back, Misaki.”

“Are you an idiot?” He raised an eyebrow right back, disgruntled. “I’d have already done it if I had any control over it. Getting random pieces in the middle of conversations and dreams and stuff is annoying.”

That seemed to catch Saruhiko’s interest. “Dreams?”

Whoops. “Like – like the one where the strains caught us.” Yata resisted the urge to cross his arms defensively, not wanting to give away his discomfort with the subject. “I dreamed about it again, that’s all. Anyway, Kusanagi kind of filled me in on what happened, like when they sent the picture of us to – ”

“You talked about it with Kusanagi?”

Something about Saruhiko’s tone got his hackles right back up. “Yeah, so what?”

There was obvious irritation in his roommate’s expression. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I need to tell you everything now?” This line of conversation was starting to piss him off. “You’re the one who stormed off in a fucking hissy fit last time I tried to talk about it!”

“That’s different.”

“How the  _fuck_  is that different?” Yata glared at him, thoroughly frustrated now. “First you say not to talk about it, and now you’re pissed that I didn’t! What the hell kind of sense does that even make?”

“What kind of idiot are you?” Saruhiko demanded in return. His lip had curled into that defensive sneer that Yata recognized from their more serious arguments in the past. “I tell you I don’t want to explain things, and you assume it means don’t talk about it at all? This whole situation is ridiculous.” He clicked his tongue again, more sharply. “What other memories haven’t you told me about?”

“Why should I tell you?” Somewhere at the back of his mind, Yata was kind of aware that he was being childish, but he was already too wound up to care. “You don’t fucking tell me  _anything_! Hell, back in the hospital, you were just going to walk out and leave to avoid having to explain!” And he hadn’t really thought about it since, but… “What the hell would you have done if I hadn’t grabbed you? Kicked me out? Sent all my stuff to Homra?”

Something dark and bleak seemed to take root in Saruhiko’s eyes, dulling his expression. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, almost sullenly, and Yata saw his hands curl into fists. “I didn’t know then, either.”

It was hard to tell if the sting in his eyes was more anger or hurt. “Screw you!” His whole body felt hot. “What the hell does our friendship even mean to you, if you’d just leave me again without even trying? All I could think about was how I didn’t want to lose whatever we had, and you didn’t even… fucking… ” To his horror, his voice was choking up; he gritted his teeth and tried again. “Why is it always only me who tries to hold onto things? Do you seriously not even care?”

Through the haze of anger that tinted everything in his vision in red, he could see Saruhiko’s face contort – and then he regained control, dipping his head forward so that his bangs shadowed his eyes. “Don’t tell me I don’t care,” he responded, low and tense. “I spent thirteen hours staring at your sleeping face and waiting for some sign that you’d wake up. I don’t believe in hell, but if it existed, that would be it.”

“ _Why_ , then?” Yata could hear the desperation in his own voice, but couldn’t bring himself to care about it. “What the hell are you running away for if you care so much?”

“’Why’?” The word came out sardonic, but the twist of Saruhiko’s lips was more like a grimace than a smirk. “Because it’s exhausting.  _You’re_  exhausting. I can’t stand it.” He brought his head up slowly, meeting Yata’s gaze with an almost manic gleam in his own eyes. “I can’t just  _push_  for things the way that you do, Misaki. You don’t seem to get that. I’m different from you.”

“Then  _tell_  me that, you asshole!” On instinct, Yata took the step needed to close the distance between them, grabbing a handful of Saruhiko’s shirt and tugging him down to eye level. “Don’t run away!” He was glaring up into the startled expression on his friend’s face, letting his own feelings and the hints from his few memories of the past year pull him forward. “I’m right here, so don’t run away, Saruhiko.”

_It’s okay if I don’t get it – I don’t need to understand everything. I’ll take all of you, but you need to promise me you won’t leave again!_

Those half-crazed eyes slid shut; Saruhiko’s tense muscles loosened, as if in resigned surrender. A shudder went through him, and then he stilled, pliant inYata’s grasp. “Do what you want.” The words were soft – almost too light, like an unwelcome echo of when he’d been drugged.

“You fucking coward.” His rage had mostly faded, but the hurt was still there, rising up like bile at the back of his throat. “I can’t do this alone. You have to meet me halfway.”

“What are you even talking about, Misaki?” Saruhiko’s voice was breathy. “I’m already at the meeting point, right now, with nowhere to go.” The corners of his mouth edged up, into a sort of pained, wistful smile. “You’re the one who isn’t here yet.”

_You’re the one…_

_“You’re the one who doesn’t get it.” Saruhiko’s tone was light, almost amused. He had a faint smile on his face, leaning against the back of the park bench behind him with his hands in his pockets and his gaze fixed on Yata’s face. There was a strange glint in his eyes, a reflection of the fading light from the sunset. “Have we reached the breaking point already? Or are we going to keep dragging out the inevitable?”_

_Yata_ _glared at him, aggravated. “You’re still saying garbage like that…” Weeks of hanging out, watching movies, getting dinner together, re-adjusting and getting comfortable with each other again – and still, he didn’t know how he was supposed to get it through this guy’s thick skull that it wasn’t just temporary._

_“Can’t help it, can I, when you still don’t understand anything?” There was something bitter in Saruhiko’s smile now. “I’m already bored with being one of your ‘comrades’.”_

_That definitely stung; Yata bristled, anger welling up instinctively in response. “Quit being an asshole! All I said was that you need to stop badmouthing my friends – how the fuck does that process in your stupid head as ‘be a jerk and ruin everything’?”_

_Saruhiko_ _clicked his tongue, eyebrows coming down with obvious irritation. He turned his gaze away sharply, almost sullenly, and didn’t bother to answer. There were traces of dissatisfaction all around the edges of his profile._

_“You always do this, whenever we argue.” It was pushing Yata to the point of desperation; shouldn’t he be the one with issues? Saruhiko had been the one to betray him, after all, not the other way around. It was so frustrating he wanted to scream. “And it’s always about being comrades, like that’s such a bad thing – what the fuck?”_

_“If I wanted to be lumped in with a pack of idiots, I have plenty of opportunities for that at work,” Saruhiko muttered darkly, still not looking at him. “I didn’t go back to being your friend so you could look at me like one of your boring teammates.”_

_“You really piss me off sometimes, you know that?” Yata glowered at the tense outline of his oldest friend, too confused and frustrated to react with anything but anger. “First off, don’t call my friends boring when you didn’t even bother to get to know_ any _of them! And second, when the hell did I say I look at you like one of them? You already made it really fucking clear that you’re not one of us!” And that was still a sore spot, too, but he was willing to live with it if that was the price of maintaining a connection between them. “You don’t need to bring it up every other day!”_

_Saruhiko_ _clicked his tongue, still radiating displeasure from about every angle. “As if I wanted to know them.” His lips curled derisively. “I don’t need to cozy up to every idiot thug on the street to know that I have no interest.”_

_“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about! ‘Idiot thug’? You’re talking about my_ friends _, you asshole!” Yata clenched his hands into fists. “They don’t say bad things about you – and I’d beat the hell out of them if they did, anyway! So why do you always feel the need to cut down my other friends like you’re so much – ?”_

_“’Other’ friends.”_ _Saruhiko cut him off, finally looking up. His eyes were glittering in the low light, eyebrows narrowed, the line of his mouth tight. “If that’s how it is, we shouldn’t be ‘friends’ at all.”_

_Yata’s_ _head was beginning to hurt; that, along with the lump in his throat and the pounding of his heart, had taken him beyond his limits. “What the hell do you even want from me?” He ducked his head, shaking with a mixture of helplessness and rage._ I don’t understand. What’s going wrong? _“I’m willing to make compromises, but you never are, and I don’t get why! Do you just not care?”_

_There was a moment of tense silence; Saruhiko glared at him, almost as if to cover up whatever emotions were there under his irritation. “You don’t understand anything,” he said finally, low and dark._

_“Then tell me, goddamnit! What the hell am I missing?” Yata returned his stare, desperation overriding his anger. “I don’t want to be your enemy, but you’re not satisfied with being friends, are you? What am I to you? What do you want me to be? I fucking – ” He caught himself just in time with that one._

I fucking love you, you asshole – you can’t do this to me again!

_“How am I supposed to know?” There was an answering frustration in those words – and somehow Saruhiko seemed just as surprised as Yata was that they’d even come out. Even with the sun nearly gone, it was possible to see the color that rose on his face; he looked away again with obvious agitation. “You make less sense than anything else in my life. I don’t know what to do with you anymore. It’s so irritating.” He was starting to speak more quickly, muttering almost under his breath, as if talking to himself. “I don’t want to deal with you, but I don’t want to leave – it doesn’t make sense. You should chase after me. Focus only on me. I shouldn’t be the only one to feel like this, it’s stupid. Idiot.”_

_Yata_ _wasn’t entirely sure if that ‘idiot’ was even aimed at him, but he was responding before his stunned brain could properly process, the instinctive push and pull motions of their relationship ingrained into him through years of repetition. “Who are you calling an idiot, you dumbass monkey?” The words sounded weak, shaky and lacking the anger to back them. It didn’t even sound like his voice._

I don’t… What, even…?

_Saruhiko_ _actually laughed, breathy and strained. His eyes slid shut, shoulders hunching, face still tilted away from Yata. “I’m not really sure,” he mumbled, sounding like he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed. “It’s your fault, Misaki. You make everything difficult. Why can’t you just…?” He waved a hand vaguely, as if that somehow conveyed everything._

Just what? _Yata scratched anxiously at the back of his head, his mind racing as he struggled to wring some meaning from what he’d just heard._ ‘You should chase after me.’ _Why? How?_  ‘Focus only on me.’ _What did that even mean?_ ‘I shouldn’t be the only one to feel like this’. _Somehow, that sounded familiar. Like an echo of something someone else had said. Or maybe thought. Maybe he had thought it. Maybe..._

‘Why should I have to feel like this?’

 _His heart was suddenly thundering in his ears; Yata swallowed, on the edge of a revelation that he was almost too overwhelmed to step into._ I thought that. _Weeks ago, when he’d slid off Saruhiko’s glasses and looked at his face and realized… that…_

That I have feelings for him.

_All at once, everything seemed very simple. It almost would’ve been funny, if he could’ve sorted through that mess of feelings in his head and located his sense of humor in there. Yata took another shaky step forward, and reached out before he could stop to think about it, gripping a handful of Saruhiko’s shirt with unsteady fingers and tugging him forward and down._

_It was messy – just like always, between the two of them. He probably would’ve smashed their foreheads together if he’d been a little taller. And he barely remembered to tilt his head to the side to avoid bumping noses. His nerves got the better of him when it came to actually pressing their mouths together; instead of the firm kiss he’d been aiming for, it was more like a clash of lips and teeth. Even as he eased back a bit, trying to sort it out while his heart fluttered and his stomach flipped over and his mind seemed to shut down from overuse, Saruhiko’s mouth was slack under his, shoulders tense with shock, breath stuttering out against Yata’s cheek._

_He wasn’t sure if it was the best or the worst moment of his life. He was – he was kissing Saruhiko. Kissing. Saruhiko. But – it was starting to sink in – he’d done it all wrong, gotten off to a terrible start, and… there was no response at all._

_Humiliation sprung up like a fire in his belly, spreading heat across his face. Yata pulled back, forcing his fingers to unclench from around his friend’s shirt, retreating to a safe distance while he stared dumbly at the face of the person he’d just kissed and tried to think of something to say that would fix this._ Now what? What do I do?

_Saruhiko_ _was staring at him as if he’d never seen him before. He blinked – once, then again – and shook his head as if to clear it. When he spoke, his voice was soft and bemused. “Misaki…?”_

_“S-Sorry!”_ _The words were tumbling out of his mouth, and he wasn’t able to gather his wits enough to stop them. Yata suddenly couldn’t bring himself to meet Saruhiko’s gaze, and stared fixedly down at the ground instead. He felt like he was going to be sick. “Th-This should be proof, though, right? O-O-Obviously I don’t think of you like everyone else! It’s good – good enough, right? Right?”_

_There was a sharp intake of breath from in front of him. “Misaki…”_

_“It’s fine, isn’t it?” His voice came out harsh and rough and desperate. “I’m chasing you, and focussing on you, and I f-f-feel like this, even if it’s only me, so it should be fine, right, Saruhiko?”_

_For what seemed like forever, he got nothing but silence as a response. Yata’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his thoughts scrambling and his stomach turning painfully. It was hard to breathe. He waited for the telltale click of Saruhiko’s tongue, the mocking words, the rejection… or even just the sound of his former friend’s footsteps carrying him away._

_Somehow, that last possibility hurt more than the rest._

_Finally, Saruhiko seemed to collect himself – but instead of reacting the way Yata was dreading, he let out a long sigh. “So that’s it?” he mumbled, apparently to himself, and then huffed out a brief, almost disbelieving laugh. “Really. That’s all it was.”_

_“What?” Yata muttered back, still too nervous to look him in the eye._

_“You probably wouldn’t get it even if I told you.” Those words were hardly out before Saruhiko’s fingers closed on his shoulder – Yata glanced up instinctively at that, startled, and then froze, caught by the unexpectedly vivid play of emotion in those cool blue eyes. “Misaki.”_

He’s so close… _Just about every nerve ending in his body was on high alert; he swallowed hard, trying to pull himself back together. “Saru…?”_

_And then Saruhiko was leaning in, and his efforts kind of fell apart right there. Yata shut his eyes without really thinking – as if he could think in a situation like this, anyway – and felt his skin prickle and his heartbeat speed up as their breath mingled. There was a faint brush of something soft and dry against his lips, and then –_

_Nothing._ _That was it._

_Yata_ _opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and stared, a little stunned. Saruhiko was giving him a searching look, clearly waiting for some reaction. It was hard to tell with the light now almost gone, but he was pretty sure there was color on his friend’s cheeks again. The hand on his shoulder was noticeably unsteady._

He really… just… _It was sinking in now. Yata felt the corners of his mouth edging up a bit, relief and elation brewing up quickly inside him._ He fucking kissed me! Seriously! Saruhiko actually just planted his lips on me – well, kinda.  _It hadn’t been much of a kiss, but still. All this time thinking it was completely one-sided on his part, and now, everything just kind of clicked into place._

_He should’ve done this weeks ago!_

_A finger flicked him in the forehead; Yata jerked back with a scowl, pulled out of those happy thoughts. “Oi! What the hell was that for?”_

_“You were standing there spacing out, so I figured it was fair.” Saruhiko returned his gaze placidly. “The kiss was that good, was it, Misaki?”_

_Something about his tone of voice was really irritating, somehow. “Heh!” Yata lowered his eyebrows and smirked, falling back into a familiar rhythm. “You mean that thing that was barely a kiss? Don’t flatter yourself, Saru!”_

_“Oh?” Saruhiko’s mouth twitched. “I thought it was a big improvement, after the way you jammed your teeth against my gums. No one ever told you that kissing was a delicate art, did they,_ virgin _?”_

_“The hell?_ _You’re a virgin, too, you dumbass!” He glared back. “Anyway, at least I was brave enough to show some enthusiasm! Were you too scared to touch my lips, or what?”_

_Saruhiko_ _clicked his tongue, clear annoyance spelled out across his face. “Who wouldn’t be scared to kiss you after you just tried to knock out their front teeth with your mouth?”_

_Yata_ _scowled back, nonplussed. He wasn’t going to deny that his kiss wasn’t the greatest, but seriously… “It was my first time, okay? I’ve totally got the hang of it now!”_

_“Have you now?” That was a funny little smirk on Saruhiko’s face. “I guess you’ll have to prove it, then, won’t you?” he drawled out, leaning back down into Yata’s personal space._

_Heat immediately sprang back up to his face again, and for a moment, he was caught without a response. “Y-Yeah,” he managed, finally, picking his brain back up somehow. His heart was going like crazy again, but he ignored it, tilting his head up purposefully. “You – you better believe I will.”_

_In all fairness, he probably couldn’t take full credit for their third kiss. They met somewhere in the middle, maybe a little hesitantly (more on Yata’s side, after the fiasco from before), but it was easier with the knowledge that things were mutual between them. Saruhiko’s lips were soft and responsive, and he pressed into the kiss with enough enthusiasm to kick of a little shiver of excitement in Yata’s gut._

The real first kiss _, he decided, as they pulled back from each other slowly._ Those other two were totally practice rounds.

_Either way, things were looking up._

_“So… yeah.”_ _Yata resisted the urge to brush his fingers over his lips – it’d look totally uncool, even if this was his first experience with it. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, looking up with a brash grin. “I guess that settles that.”_

_“’Settles’ it, huh?”_ _The words were drawled out lazily, and they came with a smile that set off the jittery feeling in his stomach again. “Fine by me.”_

His vision blurred out, and Yata was abruptly back in the present, fingers shaking where they were clasped around Saruhiko’s shirt, the fuzzy image of his best friend’s face slowly coming back into focus just bare inches from his own. He sucked in a breath and swallowed hard, struggling for some equilibrium.

“Misaki?”

Things were becoming clearer now – both his vision and his past. Yata stared up at Saruhiko, who was watching him now with an expression of guarded concern, and remembered the agitation that face had shown in the past.

_“I shouldn’t be the only one to feel like this.”_

Well, it was pretty obvious what he needed to do now. Yata steadied himself, ignoring the pounding of his heart, and gave the fabric in his hand a tug as he propelled himself up, matching some of the motions of his past-self and taking Saruhiko’s lips in a firm, insistent kiss.

For a moment, things just froze like that, completely still.

It didn’t last long. Saruhiko’s arms came up at once around Yata’s shoulders, pulling him in with a grip so tight that he made a little undignified squeak against his friend’s mouth. The return kiss was fierce, almost frantic, as if his lips were water and Saruhiko had been parched for days.

It was hard to keep up at first. Yata’s grip on the shirt he’d been clutching had been jarred loose by the abrupt violence of that embrace; he wriggled his hand free and snaked both arms around Saruhiko’s waist instead, feeling warm and a little overwhelmed with the sudden intensity. Dimly, he could hear the sound of their breathing, harsh and frenzied, and the soft, wet noises that matched the motions of lips and tongue. Saruhiko’s mouth was hot and demanding, his fingers bunching in the fabric of Yata’s shirt as he clutched at him, pressing their bodies together as closely as he could manage in their current position.

_Fuck… how hard was it for him to hold back on me?_

He wasn’t going to deny that it felt good, too. The combination of the warm body pressing up against his, the slick heat of the open-mouthed kiss, and sheer desperation that the person he’d been lusting after was now showing towards him had Yata groaning up into Saruhiko’s mouth. He tightened his arms aggressively around that slender, toned waist and surged up into the kiss with his own pent-up desires fueling him. His heart was racing from the rush.

_This is really fucking happening… holy shit…_

Saruhiko pulled back slowly, letting out a breathy huff of a laugh as Yata chased his lips instinctively. “Your impatience hasn’t changed any, Misaki,” he teased, resting his forehead against Yata’s. His eyes were closed, but there was a faint smile on his lips, and his cheeks were flushed.

It might just have been one of the hottest things Yata had ever seen. He swallowed hard around a lump that had risen suddenly at the back of his throat, and managed to croak out, “Fuck you, Saru – you could’ve just told me.”

“I couldn’t.” The response came with cool certainty. Saruhiko opened his eyes, meeting Yata’s gaze evenly. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

He sighed, a little exasperated.  _Stubborn bastard._  “I don’t.” Then he let the corners of his mouth edge up in a small, rueful smile. “But, whatever.”  _I’ll still chase after you, just like I said._  “I guess I can deal with the fact that you suck at this stuff.”

“Coming from the expert, hm?” Saruhiko raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “I seem to remember being called a fucking asshole and told to go die, approximately five minutes after going down on a  _certain someone_  for the first time. Somehow, that doesn’t strike me as very good bedside manner.”

That sounded vaguely familiar… Yata scowled back all the same. “Well, you  _act_  like a fucking asshole most of the time! You probably made some stupid comment or something.” Given who he was taking to… yeah, make that  _definitely_. “My point is that I somehow fell for you anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Hm.” Apparently that was about as far as the conversation was going to go. Saruhiko shifted, brushing the knuckles of one hand down along the line ofYata’s spine with a sort of casual familiarity. “How much do you remember?”

It was a pretty harmless question – but combined with the touch and the guarded tone, somehow Yata felt his skin prickle. “Not a lot, but… you know.” He tightened his hold on Saruhiko’s waist in an effort to cover his embarrassment. “Enough.”

That apparently was the right thing to say; he could feel the muscles under his hand relax a bit as some of the tension left them. Saruhiko shut his eyes, exhaling audibly. When he re-opened them, his gaze was heated. “You never told me, either.”

“Well… I thought maybe it was just my wishful thinking or something…” Yata met his eyes with determination, trying to ignore the rush of heat rising on his own face. “But, I dunno, I can’t see myself having super detailed fantasies about – about…” Even with everything that had just happened, it was still awkward, damnit. “T-taking it.”

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him again, but didn’t comment about the stuttering. A bit of a smug edge crept into his smile. “You seemed to like it well enough.”

That pretty much settled that. Yata could already feel the brash grin building on his face in response. “Yeah?” he challenged. “Prove it.”

When their lips met again, it was hard and fast and needy, and felt like catharsis.


	6. Chapter 6

He didn’t have enough familiarity to touch Saruhiko with any confidence, but Yata figured his enthusiasm made up for it. He’d definitely torn loose a few of the buttons on that dress shirt, but it didn’t particularly bother either of them when they were grappling on the bed, skin pressing against skin, breathing quick and harsh and desperate.

Saruhiko knew how to touch him, though, because Yata was a hot quivering mess by the time his challenge was met and he was spread out on his back while his oldest friend pressed into him with almost agonizing slowness.

It hurt, but in his aroused state, the soreness felt oddly satisfying. His body seemed to know better than he did how to respond, muscles loosening and breathing deepening automatically as Saruhiko slid inside.

_It actually does feel really good…_

He was still gazing up through half-lidded eyes when Saruhiko paused, letting out a long breath. His face was as flushed as Yata’s felt, and the look in his eyes was almost desperate. It was a pretty wanton expression, and Yata’s cock gave a little twitch just looking at it.  _Fuck, he’s so sexy…_

“Feels good,” Saruhiko said breathily, unconsciously kind of echoing his earlier thoughts. His fingers tightened on the inside of Yata’s thigh. “Being inside you like this, Misaki…”

Somewhere outside of the fog of arousal that seemed to have settled over his head, Yata had the impression he might’ve been embarrassed to hear something like that. Maybe. “Saruhiko,” he managed, and then sucked in a sharp breath as his partner started to move. “Fuck…”

Saruhiko made a little sound, something like a mix between a purr and a whimper, still gazing down at him as he thrust into Yata’s body at a steady, measured pace. One of his hands groped lightly over his partner’s erection, slender fingers running up the shaft and skimming over the head, slick with a mix of lube and pre-cum.

Yata panted, fingers clenching in the sheets. That light touch wasn’t enough, but it felt right for the moment. His whole body was tense and trembling, almost like it was anticipating something his mind hadn’t quite caught on to. Something about the angle this time… it was like there was a – a thing… he could almost…

One of Saruhiko’s thrusts hit against something inside him then, and Yata cried out, back arching involuntarily, because  _hell_ , that felt fucking incredible. “Saru…” The name fell off his lips as a moan when that spot was struck again; pleasure thrummed all the way through him like some massive wave, and his hands tightened into fists against the bed, toes curling over his lover’s shoulders.

“Ah, there,” Saruhiko murmured, his face and upper body a hazy blur against the rush of sensation clouding everything in Yata’s world. His fingers closed more firmly, stroking in time with the pace of his thrusts, adding a new layer of slippery, hot friction on top of everything else.

 _Shit, this feels too fucking good…_  Yata pressed his head back hard against the bed, too far gone to care about the whimpers and moans and random swears coming out of his mouth as spikes of shuddering pleasure wracked his body. Tension and heat and ecstasy were coiling together into a hard loop in his belly, and he was seriously going to lose it. Any second now, he’d be flying apart.

Saruhiko was coming back into focus, and Yata suddenly wanted to watch him all the way through this. His cheeks were still flushed, eyes hot and intense, and there was an unmistakeable tension in his body. His thrusts had becoming harder, rougher and more erratic, making it clear his control had slipped. The hand that was not frantically jerking Yata off was clenched on his thigh so tightly that his fingers were trembling.

“Misaki,” he groaned, catching Yata’s gaze, and the resulting jolt of arousal that spiked out through Yata’s body at that was enough to push him over the edge.

Pin pricks of light splattered around the edges of his vision; he cried out and arched against the bed again, caught up an orgasm so intense it felt like a series of explosions that triggered off all the way through him. Saruhiko’s merciless assault on that good spot inside him had his clenched fists jack-hammering against the bed as his limbs jerked reflexively, pleasure stretching out nearly to the point of being unbearable as he was pushed to the outward edge of his limits.

_Holy fucking hell… Saru…_

Through it all, he hadn’t managed to turn his gaze from Saruhiko’s face, and so he was able to watch it contort and then loosen as its owner let out a very lewd-sounding moan and came, cock twitching within Yata’s over-sensitive body as he rode out his climax.

That sight was probably going to show up in his dreams, regardless of how often they actually fucked. Yata sank back against the mattress and struggled to catch his breath, uncertain if his trembling was from the slowly fading traces of his orgasm or if it was Saruhiko’s shaking bleeding onto him. His partner had slouched forward, his bangs hiding his expression as he hovered precariously over Yata, breathing hard. Then he seemed to recover and leaned back enough to slide himself out of his lover’s body, glancing up with a kind of weary satisfaction.

That expression – just on the edge of smug – was so typical that Yata would’ve laughed if he wasn’t feeling so blissed-out and drained of energy. He managed a smile instead, gazing back up under heavy eyelids.

Amazingly, his head wasn’t complaining at him at all. He felt refreshed, despite the layer of sweat and other bodily fluids on his skin – every little sensation against his body felt clearer and more vivid than before.

Saruhiko leaned forward to kiss him lightly, and then pulled back just far enough to look him in the eye. “So?” His tone was deliberately light, almost teasing. “How did that compare to your memories, Misaki?”

“Way fucking better,” Yata answered fervently, without hesitation. “Seriously. The dream was good and all, but that was… just…”  He shook his head slightly, too relaxed to give his words much thought. “Awesome.”

He got a raised eyebrow and a hint of a smirk in return. “What did you dream about, our first time?”

“Yeah.”

Saruhiko snorted. “I like to think I’ve improved since then,” he remarked, and rolled over onto his side, trailing one teasing finger down over the mess on Yata’s lower torso. “We should clean up.”

That was probably a good idea, as much as he would’ve liked to doze off. “Right.” Yata forced his tired muscles to work, levering himself into a sitting position. Now that the rush from sex was over, he was feeling kind of sore in a few places. “I could use a shower.”

“Mm.” It sounded like agreement, but before he could move to get up off the bed, Saruhiko was sitting up behind him and wrapping an arm around his chest to pull him back. His nose burrowed into the junction of neck and shoulder, warm breath tickling the skin there.

Yata shivered involuntarily, caught off-guard, and felt his face grow warm. “Wh-What?”

“Nothing.” The word came out slow and languid, almost too soft to be heard. Another arm snaked around his torso, bringing his back flush against Saruhiko’s chest. “Just… nothing.”

 _Seriously, I don’t even know what to do with this guy._  Yata could feel the slow smile creeping onto his face even as the thought went through his head, though, and the emotion that came with it wasn’t annoyance or frustration or resignation.

He slid his hands over Saruhiko’s arms and leaned back.

 

* * *

 

 

There were no dreams the night after they’d started screwing again – well, no dreams that he remembered, and definitely no memories. Yata wasn’t really sure if that was a good thing, but waking up in Saruhiko’s bed as his lover was sliding out to get ready gave him a warm rush of contentment.

 _This is really how it is between us, huh?_  He sank back against the pillow, half-closed eyes following Saruhiko’s motions as he pulled on his uniform. They’d spent most of the rest of yesterday playing video games and even just talking – now that the whole ‘we’re sleeping together’ bit was out, some of the details of their situation had been easier to coax out of his stubborn partner.

Apparently, they had a lot of sex now, which Yata counted as a win. In fact, they’d done it again before going to bed, cramped together on the couch cushions with their legs tangled, only halfway undressed and making out frantically while grinding against each other to a slow but satisfying climax. Saruhiko had come before him, too, and he’d had the pleasure of getting off to that sexy orgasm face. It still gave him a little shiver now just thinking about it.

_Fuck, I’ve got it so bad…_

“I’m heading out.” Abruptly, Saruhiko was leaning over him, and Yata tilted his head automatically to meet the kiss.  _Is this a thing? He kisses me goodbye in the morning?_  It felt familiar, but it was surreal to think about. Were they really the ‘kiss each other goodbye’ type?

Apparently so.

It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, though. Yata watched him pull away, still a bit fuzzy-headed from sleep. “Have a good day,” he mumbled, and gave in to the downward pull on his eyelids as the blurred image of Saruhiko’s uniform-clad figure headed for the bedroom door.

When he opened them again, the apartment was quiet, it was nearly noon, and his PDA was blinking at him, indicating a new message.

Still no dreams.

 _Well, I can get memories back when I’m awake, too._  Yata covered a yawn, pushing aside those thoughts. His head was still heavy and the now-familiar dull ache was reminding him that it had been a while since the last time he’d taken his pain meds, but it didn’t seem as bad as before.  _I’m totally getting better, right? Three weeks is too long – I’ll be all healed up in just one, tops._

Wishful thinking, probably, but whatever.

He lifted his wrist and checked the message, which – surprisingly – turned out to be from Kamamoto, rather than his mother. ‘Heard about your accident. Feeling okay? The stuff you ordered came in. I’ll drop it off if you want.’

 _Stuff I ordered?_   Yata frowned at the message. He had a sort of vague sense about it – like he should know about this, and it was kind of important. His skin was prickling a bit; he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad.

 _One way to find out, I guess._  Pushing himself up into a better position, he brought up the holographic keypad and typed out a quick ‘yeah, come over’.

The response came back as he was getting up from Saruhiko’s bed: ‘Okay if Anna comes along?’

 _Anna?_  That was definitely a surprise. Yata blinked at the words, but they didn’t change. The only reason Kamamoto would’ve mentioned bringing their King with him was if she’d specifically asked for it, and even then, she’d probably had to override Kusanagi’s objections.

But why would she?

Well, either way, he wasn’t about to refuse. Yata typed back a quick agreement before heading out of Saruhiko’s room and back to his own to pick out some fresh underwear and clothing.

It was about another hour before he was buzzing them in through the front door of the building – a fucking intercom in his apartment, hah, fancy living – so he’d had time to reheat and eat some of the take-out he and Saruhiko had ordered the night before.

“Yo, Yata!” Kamamoto greeted when he opened the apartment door for them. He was looking much the same – non-summer-mode, with an unassuming smile and sunglasses tucked on his shirt. “How’s your head?”

“Tons better – something like that wouldn’t stop me for long!” It was easy and relaxing to fall back into the habit of chatting with a close friend. Yatastepped back to allow his guests access and turned his eyes towards Anna. “Thanks for coming over.”

She returned his gaze with calm gravity, and he felt like something in his soul had settled a bit. Being around her was like that; it made him feel better about the world. It was different from the powerful, unstoppable feeling Mikoto had inspired, but no less amazing. “Thank you for having us,” she responded, stepping inside ahead of Kamamoto and turning to remove her shoes.

“Yeah, of course.” He shut the door again after they were both inside, and offered a grin. “Being here by myself sucks, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Misaki,” Anna said, unexpectedly. “We should have come to visit sooner.” She turned her gaze from his. “Totsuka would have scolded us if he were here.”

“H-Hey, really, it’s okay!” Yata held up both hands, a little alarmed at the way the mood had shifted. “You came to see me in the hospital, so it’s all good! And I know everyone’s probably busy. Plus, I have Saru here anyway, right?”

Kamamoto glanced around, looking a bit awkward for some reason. “Is Fushimi here right now?”

“Nope, he’s at work.” Yata shrugged, waving a hand carelessly. “Anyway, make yourself at ho –  _wait_!” He scrambled forward to stop Anna before she could make her way to the couch. “You can’t sit there! It’s… not very comfortable.” His face was heating up, and this had to look suspicious, but fucking hell, there was no way he was letting his King sit on a couch he’d had sex on less than twenty-four hours ago. “Really. Just – just sit at the table. I’ll make tea. Okay?”

Anna looked at him for a moment – probably just a second or two, really, but it felt like an eternity. “Okay.”

He let out a breath and slumped forward, relieved. “Great! I mean… right. Yeah. Good.”

The gaze that Kamamoto was directing at the couch was dubious, but he – thankfully – made no comment. “I brought your order with me,” he offered instead, reaching into his coat and pulling out a thin envelope. “Here.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t what he’d been expecting – but then again, he hadn’t exactly known what he’d been expecting, so maybe it was. Yata took the envelope, frowning down at it. “Thanks. Why’d it go to your place, though?”

Kamamoto blinked at him. “You don’t remember?”

“Kusanagi didn’t tell you?” Yata rapped his knuckles against the top of his head meaningfully. “I lost all my memories from last year.”

“He said something about it, but still…” Kamamoto scratched his head, looking kind of bemused. “That seems like a lot to just lose all of a sudden.”

 _Yeah, tell me about it._  “Well, could’ve been worse.” Yata tried to shrug that off, shooting back what he hoped was a brash grin. “It’s not much of a fight when your opponent’s a bus, though. And surprising me at work – that’s fighting dirty, right?”

“At work?” Kamamoto’s brow furrowed. “That’s odd…”

When he didn’t expand on that, Yata raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Oh, well… just…” He scratched his head. “Kusanagi mentioned that the accident happened on Monday, is all.”

“Uh, yeah.” Honestly, it was kind of hard to keep track of the days when while on enforced ‘rest time’. “I think. So?”

“So… you don’t work Mondays. At least, you didn’t before I left.” That came with a shrug. “You’re always complaining that no one’s around.”

Yata blinked at that. “Huh… really?” He frowned, trying to wrap his head around the idea. “What the hell was I doing at work on my day off?”

Kamamoto shrugged again. “Maybe you were called in to cover for someone? I don’t know. It seems weird, that’s all.”

“I guess.” It wasn’t like it really mattered. “Well, whatever.” Tearing the envelope open, he tipped it sideways so that the contents slid out into his hand.

Contents which turned out to be overnight passes for a hot springs resort – two of them – and a printed receipt for an amount that had him squinting suspiciously at the numbers. “I didn’t buy these, did I?”

It was a stupid question – obviously, he had, or he wouldn’t be getting them handed to him by Kamamoto, who could probably afford them even less than he could. His friend was giving him the sort of look that suggested he was contemplating how best to answer that question without inadvertently stepping on any toes now, too, so Yata didn’t bother to wait for a response. “What the hell? No wonder my account’s empty.” He turned the passes over, frowning at them. “Why would I buy something like this?”

“It was a gift,” Anna said suddenly, drawing both of their gazes. She was seated at the table already, legs tucked neatly beneath her. “A surprise forSaruhiko.”

Yata blinked at her. “What, really?” He turned his eyes back to the passes again, feeling his brow furrow.

Thinking about it closely… Anna’s words did ring true. He sort of had a vague impression now, of sitting in front of a computer and trying to figure out how to order the stupid things, a mixture of impatience and frustration and excitement bouncing around his head as he did.

_“This is gonna be awesome!” He leaned back in the chair, regarding the receipt page on the screen with a certain amount of satisfaction. “Can’t wait to see the look on his face.”_

_“Well, I agree about the awesome part…” When he turned, Kamamoto was giving him a doubtful look from his seat at the table in his family’s house (which had been the only place Yata could think of to use a computer that his boyfriend wouldn’t find out about). “But are you sure about making it a surprise? Weren’t you complaining about what a control freak Fushimi is?”_

_Yata_ _frowned at him, mildly irritated by the lack of enthusiasm. “Whatever, it’s fine – it’s not like they’re for a set date or anything. He can pick whenever he wants, and we’ll go. Plus, Saru likes hotsprings.” It was one of the few things he was pretty sure was a safe bet for a gift, which was one of the reasons he’d chosen it in the first place. “And it’s better to do a surprise for anniversary gifts, right?”_

_Just about one year of getting along… for them, that was probably worth celebrating. Yata turned back to grin at the screen again, more than a little proud of himself for thinking of it._

_“Yeah, I guess.” The point was conceded with a shrug. “These are pretty pricy, though – are you okay for rent?”_

_“It’s all good – I worked it out.” That was another thing to be proud of – it wasn’t easy to budget things like this on his measly income. “I just have to get Saru to cover me this once, and I can pay him back when I get my next check.” He folded his arms, allowing himself a smug little smirk. “Then I just hold off on spending for the rest of the month, and I’m good again.”_

_For some reason, that earned him another one of those doubtful looks. “Fushimi doesn’t mind covering you?”_

_“Why the hell would he?” This was beginning to get more than a little annoying; Yata turned in his chair to scowl properly. “And what’s with all the negative comments? I should know Saru better than anyone, right?”_

_“Ah… right. I guess?” As if sensing that he was on thin ice, Kamamoto hurried on with the rest. “So what are you going to tell him when he asks why he has to cover?”_

_That was the one part he hadn’t worked out yet – but it wasn’t super important. “I’ll think of something.” In the meantime… “Anyway, since I’m done with that, let’s head back to the bar, okay?”_

The memory blurred out back into the present again; Yata blinked, regaining a sense of his surroundings. “Huh.” He stared at the passes again for a moment,then looked up to smile ruefully at Anna. “I guess they were.”

“You remember it?” Kamamoto sounded a bit surprised.

“I get memories back all the time.” Yata braced his hands on his hips confidently, turning to offer his friend a brash grin. “Something like this is no big deal for me – I’ll be back to normal in a week, tops.”

Kamamoto looked suitably impressed. “That’s awesome!”

“Right?” Yata set the passes down on the counter, moving on into the kitchen. “Anyway, sit down – I’ll grab some tea. And there’s leftover takeout, if you want it.”

“Really?” That seemed to brighten him up. “That’d be great – I’m starving, honestly.”

“There’s a surprise,” Yata muttered to himself, but he was still smiling as he did. There was definitely something to be said for being around friends again. As much as he liked –  _loved_  – Saruhiko, there was no denying that there were a lot of other important people in his life that he really missed being around now.

_Well, I’ll be back at Homra soon – just a few more days, probably._

He was just finishing with the kettle and about to grab some teacups from the cupboard when a soft tug on his sleeve brought him to a halt. Yata turned to meet his King’s gaze, surprised. “Anna?”

She let go of his shirt and set one pale finger at the point right above his heart instead. “Memories live here,” she said simply, and tilted her head at him, expression serious.

Somehow, those words struck a chord. Yata blinked at her, feeling like he was hovering on the edge of an understanding he couldn’t quite reach. “Um…” At least Anna wouldn’t make fun of him for not getting it. “What do you mean?”

“Hitting your head won’t make you forget.” She looked down at his chest again, eyes lidded. “Forgetting is a shield for when your heart is hurt.”

Yata stared at her, feeling more lost than ever. “Sorry… I don’t really get it.” He tapped a finger against the side of his head. “It was my head that was hurt, right? I mean, nothing happened to my heart or anything…” The calm certainty of her words made him a little doubtful, though. “Right? I mean, what could have happened?”

Anna shook her head slightly. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but it should be here.” She pressed her finger gently into the point on his chest, and offered a small, rare smile.

“Oh… well, okay.” Yata rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward about it. Obviously, he’d totally missed whatever she was trying to tell him, but that was nothing new. A glance over in the direction of the table showed Kamamoto fiddling nervously with his PDA – no help whatsoever. “Anyway, you can just sit and wait. I’ll bring the tea out to you, all right?”

There was a brief moment’s pause, and then Anna nodded. “All right.”

The sense of unease didn’t quite leave even when she sank back down across from Kamamoto again; for whatever reason, it just felt… ominous.

 _That’s stupid, though._  Yata grabbed up the whistling kettle and stubbornly turned his attention back to what was in front of him.  _Just forget it._

It was probably just his head playing tricks on him, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

The passes didn’t come to mind again until after he’d seen Kamamoto and Anna to the door and then turned around to find his ‘surprise gift’ still sitting on the kitchen counter. Yata picked them up again, frowning a bit as he contemplated how this was going to work.

 _We obviously can’t go right away._  Hell, even aside from the fact that he probably wasn’t ‘travel ready’, he didn’t know when Saruhiko had enough time off to accommodate an overnight trip. It was something they were going to have to talk about.

The question was, when should he bring it up?

 _I don’t even remember when the anniversary is._  Kusanagi had said ‘almost a year’ since the subway hijacking, which meant almost a year since they’d reconciled, but as far as exact dates went? Yeah, unless he had a calendar hanging around somewhere with the date circled, there was no way he was going to figure that out.

Plus, he kind of didn’t want to wait. Yata felt the grin building on his face as he thought about it, a little of the anticipation from the memory catching up with him. There was no way Saruhiko was going to see this coming – not with the way he kept making comments about Yata being broke all the time. The look on his face was going to be great!

And then there was the trip itself…

 _An overnight trip as a couple._  It was one of those things other people did – like with actual, real relationships. Yata felt a little weird about that. Sure, he was serious about Saruhiko, and he was  _pretty_  sure that was mutual, but, well… relationships. Hell. They were in one of those, weren’t they?

Kind of scary to think about, but he liked it. Yata stared down at the paper in his hands, an odd mix of excitement and apprehension blending up into something mostly pleasant inside him. That was right – he was Saruhiko’s boyfriend, because they were in a fucking relationship, and now he got to reap all the benefits. Which, in this case, meant a romantic overnight trip at a goddamn hot spring.

It was going to be awesome!

 _I’ll tell him after dinner,_  he decided, tucking the passes into his back pocket. That wasn’t too much of a wait, right? He could handle that, at least.

Two different attempts at gaming, a quarter of a comic book, one thoroughly cleaned bathroom, and about twenty minutes of restless pacing later, Yata was pretty convinced he was going to crawl out of his skin.  _How late does he actually work?_

He couldn’t remember ever checking the time when Saruhiko got home, so for all he knew it could have been the middle of the night. Except that there had still been some light. Maybe. Had there?

He was still mulling that one over, hedging back and forth in his own mind, when the sound of a key turning in the lock interrupted.

“I’m ho – ” The automatic, lazy drawl stalled out as Saruhiko looked up and met Yata’s expectant gaze from less than a foot away. He blinked, clearly startled. “Misaki.” Then his eyes narrowed. “What?”

That reaction was… honestly kind of irritating. “What do you mean, ‘what’?” Yata frowned. “I’m greeting you at the door here – show a little enthusiasm or something, will you?”

The suspicious frown on Saruhiko’s face didn’t even waver. “I don’t remember ever promising you enthusiasm.” He turned slowly, gaze lingering warily on Yata’s face for a moment before he clicked his tongue and shifted his attention to his boots. “What do you want?”

“Nothing!” Yata got a pointed glance in response to that, and felt his face grow hot. “Wh-What?” He crossed his arms, feeling defensive. “Got a problem with that?”

“Not really.” The response came in a sort of offhand tone; Saruhiko finished with his boots and turned again to head into the apartment, pulling his jacket off as he did. “If there’s nothing you want, then that’s fine.”

“Huh. Well… good.” That probably could’ve gone better, but whatever. Yata wandered back into the kitchen instead of following, adopting a casual pose against the counter. “Anyway, now that you’re back, let’s eat, okay?”

Saruhiko paused long enough to shoot him another sharp-eyed glance before continuing into his room, unhurried. “I’m having a shower first.”

Yata’s impatience curled into a frustrated little knot in his stomach at those words. “Can’t you do that after?”

“Why should I?”

 _Goddamnit_ _, Saru, you stubborn son of a bitch…_  He scowled at the open doorway, then let out a long breath, and gave in. “I’ve got a fucking surprise, okay? For after dinner.”

“Is that all?” Saruhiko reappeared from inside the room, the jacket gone and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was smiling faintly, that annoying little I-knew-you’d-crack curve on his lips. “I was starting to think you were planning to drug my food.”

Yata snorted. “You  _would_  think up something twisted like that. Seriously, why would I drug your food? For kicks?”

“Mm, who knows.” He got a lazy smirk in response; Saruhiko crossed the room and leaned against the counter beside him, just on the edge of being inside Yata’s personal space. “Maybe so you could have your way with me.”

 _Oh._  So that was where this was going. Yata tried to ignore the telltale blush he could feel rising on his cheeks, and quickly turned his gaze away, flustered. “I don’t need to drug you for that, do I?”

Saruhiko hummed next to his ear, low and amused, and reached out to toy with the nearest belt loop on Yata’s shorts. “True, probably not. Anyway…” His lips brushed against the sensitive skin beneath them, prompting a shiver. “What were you planning to surprise me with?”

A pleasant little twinge stirred up in Yata’s belly – just enough to feel good without any kind of rush for release. Ignoring the question, he went ahead with what his instincts were telling him and turned his head to cover Saruhiko’s mouth with his own.

It felt nice, even something as simple and casual as that. Just… touching each other, in a more-than-friendly way. Not necessarily because they were going to have sex, but… well… Whatever. He liked it. Saruhiko’s lips, and Saruhiko’s touch, and the two of them having an understanding together – it was good.

_Can’t believe I managed to forget this somehow._

He felt confident enough to run a hand along the line of Saruhiko’s hip as he pulled back, thumb brushing over the jut of bone just under the line where his trousers gave way to skin. “I said ‘after dinner’ – what the hell kind of surprise would it be if I told you about it before?”

“A tolerable one,” Saruhiko responded immediately, but there was an edge of contentment in his tone. His eyes were lidded and there was a lazy sort of upturn to his mouth. “If you really need an arbitrary waiting period, though, feel free to keep it.”

“Like I need your permission.” Yata allowed himself a little smirk. That expression was kind of charming, in a way, all relaxed and unguarded. The knowledge that he had to be the only one who got to see it gave him a heady feeling, and the fingers he’d rested on his boyfriend’s hip curled in for a firmer grip briefly, before he slid them free. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and sighed, but let him go without a fuss. “Impatient, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” He tossed a good-natured glare over his shoulder, pulling open the fridge door. “Grab a plate, asshole.”

Dinner was quick. Saruhiko was a light eater as it was, and Yata was too anxious and excited to eat much. The takeout supply had also been diminished significantly by Kamamoto’s visit – a fact that seemed to sour the mood when he explained it.

“Are you even going to have enough for tomorrow?” Saruhiko asked irritably, pushing the food on his plate into clumps.

“Of course I will!” Yata scowled back at him, lowering his chopsticks. “Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot.”

That earned him a raised eyebrow. “Hard to do when you keep acting like one.”

“Piss off.” He gathered up another bite, focussing on his plate stubbornly. “Just because  _you_  don’t have friends who come to visit…”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again and set down his chopsticks, pushing his half-empty plate forward. “I’m done.”

Yata counted that as a victory. “Heh.” He put down his own chopsticks, grinning across the table triumphantly. “Can’t wait to see the surprise, right? I don’t blame you.” Pushing himself up onto his knees, he reached into his back pocket. “Just be ready to be blown away.”

“Blown away by what, exactly?” Saruhiko watched him skeptically.

“Hah – you’ll see.” Yata retrieved the passes and presented them with a proud flourish.  _See if you make another jab about me being broke after this!_  “Take a look for yourself.”

His boyfriend reached out for the passes slowly, bringing them up to eye level. There was a moment of silence as he took in the content.

A moment of silence that stretched on a little too long for Yata’s nerves. “Pretty impressive, right?” he urged, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the table and watching for some reaction on that frustratingly impassive face. His heart was going about a mile a minute. “I figured since we’d managed one whole year of not killing each other, it was worth celebrating in sty – ”

“What is this?” Saruhiko cut him off, looking up sharply from the paper in his hands.

The clear hostility in both his tone and gaze caught Yata off-guard. He blinked, losing the train of his thought. “’What’?” he repeated, confused. “It’s – ”

Those slender fingers clenched around the passes, wrinkling them. “When did you buy these?”

“Before… you know.” This reaction was baffling – Yata wasn’t sure what to do with it. He eased back to an upright sitting position again, frowning back. “I just got the memory back today, so I’m not – ”

“You don’t have any spare money for these.” Saruhiko tossed the offending items onto the table. “You can’t even afford rent. Why would you buy something stupid like this?”

That struck a nerve – Yata could feel the heat crawling up his neck in response, humiliation sinking in. “The fuck? You’re the one who said rent wasn’t important!”  _I can’t work right now. I have no money. I’m completely dependent on him._  Those thoughts had been drifting at the edge of his mind since he’d come home, along with the frustration of being reduced to someone useless and undependable.  “Besides, I had a plan – I’d budgeted for this, if you just let me – ”

“Take them back.”

He couldn’t have heard that right. “What?”

“I said take them back. Ask for a refund.” Saruhiko folded his arms, glaring off to the side. His lips were thin, and there was tension visible in every inch of his posture.

Yata glanced from his boyfriend to his rejected gift and back again, feeling a lump of hurt welling in his throat. He wasn’t sure if there was more anger or confusion swirling around in that mess of emotions in his head, but he was lashing back with instinctive heat before he could even think to sort it out. “What the hell is your problem? I was trying to do something nice, you asshole!”

“I didn’t ask for it.” The words came out tight.

“Well, you don’t have to be a prick about it, either!” He was starting to see red – and not the good kind, either. The kind that came with a dull, steadily growing ache at the back of his head. “A fucking ‘thanks but no thanks’ would’ve been fine!”

Saruhiko wasn’t looking at him; his expression was stony. “I’m not thanking you for something I didn’t ask for and don’t need,” he responded, and abruptly pushed himself up, turning to stride away from the table. “Don’t buy me any more ‘surprises’.”

Yata glowered at his retreating back. “Don’t worry!”

The slamming of Saruhiko’s bedroom door behind him was his only response.

In the silence that followed, the sound of his own harsh, angry breathing was almost ridiculously loud. Yata seethed for a moment, hands balled into fists in his lap, too furious to really reflect on what had just happened.  _Where the fuck does he get off, saying all of that shit?_  As if he didn’t know how to manage his own money. As if he hadn’t had a plan, hadn’t worked out how to balance everything and still try for something they might have fun with together.

Pretty ironic that it had just led to another goddamn argument instead.

 _Why, though?_  That reaction hadn’t even made sense. Yata picked up the passes from where they’d been discarded on the table, staring at them as if he’d find an answer.  _What does he suddenly have against hot springs, anyway?_

It felt like his energy was draining away along with his anger; trying to figure out Saruhiko’s temper and whims and stupid random moods suddenly seemed like more work than his aching brain could handle. He thought back to his earlier excitement –  _a fucking trip as a couple, hah_  – and had to swallow hard around another of those painful lumps.

_I’m definitely an idiot for thinking he’d want something like that._

Doubly an idiot for getting so proud of himself over being able to make Saruhiko happy.  _He’s never really happy, is he?_   Yata obviously had failed at it before, so he didn’t know why he thought he’d be able to do it now. It was just him getting caught up in his own feelings again – wanting it so badly that he convinced himself he’d done it.

He shouldn’t have bothered. Yata felt the telltale hot sting around his eyes just before his vision blurred, and angrily swiped at them. Nothing he did was ever good enough for that guy anyway, so he wasn’t sure why he kept trying.

The memory of Saruhiko’s expression from earlier flashed back into his head – that content, unguarded look, like he had everything in the world he’d ever needed in front of him – and Yata felt his heart clench.  _Right._ _That._

Nothing in movies or books or comics or  _anything_  had ever warned him about how complicated, frustrating, and hurtful it was to be in love with someone – even when they returned it.

 _We should probably… talk. Or something._  Yata put the passes back down on the table again, deliberately averting his eyes from them. His head was throbbing, and he felt exhausted in every sense – mind, body, spirit. He wasn’t sure his heart could take any more beatings right then.  _Tomorrow._

With that decided, he pushed himself wearily to his feet and started to work on clearing the table.


	7. Chapter 7

_He would’ve thought he was asleep and caught up in some fucked-up nightmare, if it wasn’t for two things: the pain in his ribs and head, and the fact that he was 100% sure he could never have dreamed up half the things Saruhiko had been muttering behind him._

_Over the course of the past hour – or however long they’d been trapped there; it felt like forever – Yata had gone through at least three instances of thinking his opinion of Saruhiko’s dad couldn’t get any lower, and been proven wrong each time. Yeah, back then he’d known their home life wasn’t the greatest, but this…_

_“No such thing,” Saruhiko mumbled, his head bumping against Yata’s as he rolled it sideways again. His body felt feverishly hot. “Permanence doesn’t exist. It’ll just be destroyed. I’ll break it myself. I’ll break it. Don’t touch it, I’ll do it myself. Leave me alone. I can burn it with my own hands. Mine.”_

_Somehow, the soft, half-delirious resignation in his former friend’s voice made Yata’s gut clench with unwilling sympathy. He breathed out slowly into the pause that followed, and shifted, ready to try again to get through whatever haze was settled around Saruhiko’s brain. “Saru – ”_

_“Mi~sa~ki~.” The head that had been resting against his shoulder lolled back off of it and down; a muffled chuckle followed the slow drawl of his name. “You burned up all on your own, didn’t you?” His voice took on a light, careless tone. “Burning up into ashes, rising out like a phoenix, sitting in a birdcage and happy to squawk away for nothing at all. Boring, useless, broken – all the good things left behind in the ash.”_

_It was pointless to try and make sense of any of that. Yata wasn’t sure if he was being insulted, and he didn’t have the energy to get properly riled up, either way. “Whatever,” he muttered in response. It was like talking to himself, but somehow, he felt like he had to say_ something _. “I don’t even know what you’re– ”_

_From somewhere across the room, a cellphone buzzed loudly._

_Yata_ _swallowed back the rest of his words; with most of his focus being on Saruhiko and his constant stream of rambling, he’d just about forgotten about their captor. There were some shuffling motions from roughly the same direction as the buzzing noise, and then the man’s voice sounded out, “Yeah?”_

_Tuning out the mumbling from behind him, Yata strained his ears to catch whatever he could of the conversation. The voice from the other end of the cell connection was audible – barely – but it sounded like an angry squirrel chattering away._

If I could just…

 _“The_ fuck _?”_ _The man in the room sounded shocked – and angry. “How in the hell did they – ?” There was a moment of tense, aggrieved silence. “No, for fuck’s sake, I – hold on.” More shuffling, and then the sound of footsteps pacing briskly across the room towards them. “I don’t want these guys listening in.”_

_Footsteps echoed across the room, heading somewhere away from them; a door creaked open and the sharp sound of the man’s voice faded off as he drew out of range._

_Yata_ _shut his eyes behind the blindfold, letting out the breath he’d been holding. No chance of catching any of that, so he still had no clue what was going on – but the unhappy tone was promising, at least. Something had fucked up in whatever plan these assholes had going. That could only mean good things for him._

_Unless they just decided to kill the both of them, of course._

_“Ch’.”_ _He let his mouth twist into a scowl to cover up the insistent tendril of fear lashing out at the pit of his stomach. “You’re going to regret crossing Homra,” he muttered, in the general direction of the door. “Just wait.”_

_The bravado made him feel a little better._

_Behind him, Saruhiko giggled drunkenly. “Regret?” he repeated, slow and drawling. “Homra? Ah.” His head snapped up again, nearly colliding with the back of Yata’s. “I regret every second of Homra. Every. Single. Second.”_

_That stung a lot more than Yata would’ve thought, after all this time. “Only a traitor like you would regret being part of something awesome like Homra!” he snapped back, without stopping to consider the futility of it._

_“So disappointing,” Saruhiko murmured back, voice low like he was telling a secret. “Suffocating. Fire and fighting and punks content to idle around all day.” His head dipped forward again, and the rest came out almost too quietly to be heard. “Saying ‘family, family’ like that’s a_ good _thing.”_

 _It was hard to stay irritated at that, after everything he’d heard. Yata tipped his own head forward, caught without a response – not that it would’ve made a difference, anyway._ All of this was going through his head back then?

 _Saruhiko_ _was still mumbling away. “I don’t fit. I don’t? It’s Homra that’s wrong. I don’t need them.” His head lolled back onto Yata’s shoulder again. “Misaki would choose Homra over me. I don’t need him.”_

 _For a moment, everything seemed to slow to a halt. Yata couldn’t speak – couldn’t_ breathe _– and he would never have been able to name the emotions that struck him in that instant. The pain in his head and ribs dulled suddenly in comparison to the ache rising at the back of his throat. He swallowed hard around the accompanying lump, and tried to make his voice work. “The hell are you – ?”_

_“I don’t need Suoh Mikoto. I don’t need Homra.” Saruhiko’s voice rose, growing almost manic. “I don’t need Misaki.” He laughed again, the sound blending suspiciously close to a sob. “I won’t be discarded.” Those words sounded suspiciously rough. “I can’t be, can I? I’ll do it. I’ll break it. I’m the discarder now.”_

_Yata’s_ _eyes were stinging; he had to fight to keep his voice from betraying him. “Saru…”_

_“I don’t need you,” his former friend responded, again in that heavy, drunken tone. “Misaki.”_

_He swallowed again, with effort – it was harder this time – and tried to ignore the growing dampness on the blindfold. Something inside him ached in response to those words._

_“Ah~h.”_ _That came with a breathy-sounding sigh. “Misaki is so far away. Why?” Saruhiko’s voice was plaintive, like a petulant child’s. “What makes you so happy here? It’s too hard to breathe.”_

_There was a tremor building in Yata’s limbs, although whether it was in response to his strained emotions, his injuries, or the anxiety that kept his muscles taut, he couldn’t say. It might even have been shock. His head and ribs were starting to feel numb, and there was an uncomfortable, stiff tingling sensation around his tailbone from being forced to sit on a cold cement floor for too long._

_Even so, he couldn’t have stopped listening if he wanted to. Whether it was need or grief or dread that fed that breathless tension, it didn’t matter._

I missed all of this. _That fact wouldn’t stop plaguing him._  It was right in front of me, and I couldn’t see it…

_“Misaki is too simple. Satisfied so easily.” The edge of contempt in those words was almost lost in the desperation that colored Saruhiko’s tone. “How can you laugh? It’s suffocating. Draining. Dull. Misaki.” The pitch of his voice rose to a whine on Yata’s name, and the rest of the words came out small and plaintive. “I’m not happy, so how… how… ?”_

_Yata’s_ _throat felt swollen and raw, and it took several tries to clear it enough to get his voice through. Even then, it came out hoarse. “You could’ve said so.”_

 _Saruhiko’s_ _shoulders slumped against his back. His former friend’s breathing was harsh and audible, but for a long moment, there was no other sound in the room, and it was almost possible to believe that those words had gotten through – the rambling was over._

 _“Saru?”_ _Yata risked, after a moment. His own voice sounded weak and small in the oppressive silence around them. He wasn’t sure what to follow that up with. He didn’t even know what to think. The only thing driving him was blind instinct – a need to confirm that the person behind him was okay._

_Useless, really, because nothing in this entire situation was okay, but that didn’t quell the urge._

_The body pressed against his shuddered, then started to shake. Yata had only a moment to feel startled and alarmed before the accompanying sound registered, and he realized that Saruhiko was laughing. Not a soft, short laugh. Not that amused, mocking huff he normally made. Actual, full-on laughter.Like he’d just heard the funniest joke of his life._

_Somehow, that brought up the hair on the back of Yata’s neck. He focussed on breathing evenly, something close to despair building inside him as he vainly tried to tune out the hysterics behind him._

I really can’t reach him now, can I?

 _Saruhiko’s_ _fit started to subside; he let out a final, breathy-sounding chuckle and rolled his head back against Yata’s shoulder again. “I don’t need you,” he murmured, slow and delirious, with an almost ecstatic note in his voice._

_The trembling was back, full force. Yata clenched his hands into fists, squeezing until his knuckles ached. “Shut up,” he muttered, under his breath._

_A low, amused hum was his response. “I don’t need you.”_

_“Liar.”_ _Even without fully processing everything he’d just heard, he felt confident of that. Yata ducked his head, wishing he could block out his ears. Somehow, even though he thought –_ knew _– that Saruhiko was lying, the words still cut right through him._

Don’t say it…

_“I don’t need you.”_

_“Shut up already!” It came out a little too sharp – and way too desperate – but Yata was beyond caring. “You fucking liar! Traitor! Goddamn monkey!” He tugged uselessly at the bonds holding his hands immobile, not really sure if he wanted to hit something or cover his ears. “Quit deciding things on your own, you bastard!”_

_Saruhiko_ _tilted his head so that their faces were nearly touching; the heat of his fever seemed to radiate from his skin. “I. Don’t. Need. You,” he repeated slowly, pronouncing each word carefully and distinctly, as if there was some doubt that Yata had properly heard it. “Mi. Sa. Ki~.”_

 _The blindfold was wet, his breathing was short, and his throat stung. Yata shut his eyes so tightly that sparks danced in his vision, and fought the urge to laugh – or sob – himself._ Who are you trying to convince?

_Even without really understanding anything, he was pretty sure it wasn’t him._

 

* * *

 

 

The transition from sleep to wakefulness was sudden and unceremonious. That vivid impression of a cold cement floor, a fever-warm body against his back, and dulled-out pain had still not quite faded even as Yata found himself laying on his side – alone – in his own bed. The clock beside his bed read 3:17AM in bold red digital display.

For a moment, it felt like he was frozen in place, heart racing, eyes wide open and thoughts jumbled all over the place.

_“I’m the discarder now.”_

The memory of that delirious, half-broken voice from behind him had him pushing himself up from the bed, ignoring the warning throb from his head as it was jostled up a little too quickly. The room was still too dark, shadows slowly shaping up into vaguely recognizable forms as his eyes adjusted.

_“I don’t need you.”_

Yata clenched his teeth, getting to his feet quickly and fumbling around for the door. “Stupid bastard,” he gritted out, scowling against the prickling he could feel around his eyes.

The apartment was quiet when he strayed out of his room; somehow, in the stillness, he could still hear the echo of Saruhiko’s laughter in his ears, almost like it was playing on repeat somewhere close by. The memory of that sound made his skin prickle.

 _I don’t fucking get it._  Even with everything, he still found himself hesitating in front of his the closed bedroom door. There was no light from a laptop or desk lamp or anything shining out from the frame.  _You always push me away and then pull me right back somehow – I don’t get you at all._

Still, though… still…

If he stopped to think too much about it, he’d never get anywhere. Yata took in a sharp breath, did his best to push the memories of crazed laughter and a fevered voice to the back of his mind, and reached out to open the door.

As indicated by the lack of lighting, Saruhiko was in bed – well, the dark, blanket-wrapped lump he assumed to be Saruhiko was, anyway. Yata shut the door carefully behind him and made his way across the room to the side of the bed, the adrenaline high from his recent memory causing his heart to hammer away at his chest.

Without light, he could only make out a sketchy outline of that slumbering face, but it was enough.  _He’s here. He’s okay._  It wasn’t like he’d doubted it, but somehow, seeing it with his own eyes was reassuring. _This is the present, and that was the past. We share an apartment. We’re friends again. We’re more than friends._  A lump was rising at the back of his throat; Yata swallowed hard, and curled his fingers into fists when they started to tremble.

_He hasn’t discarded me._

“Idiot,” he muttered shakily, breaking the silence in the room, and wasn’t exactly sure which one of them he was aiming it at.

Saruhiko shifted at that, eyes slitting open hazily – then a bit wider as he blinked to clear them, sleep-addled confusion evident in his face. “… Misaki?”

Yata leaned down to brace his fists on the edge of the mattress, the thread of desperation that had driven him out of bed growing taught somewhere inside him. “Don’t,” he started, and had to stop there, voice catching at the back of his throat and making it difficult to breathe. He tried again, and managed to choke out, “Don’t decide you don’t need me!”

Even in the dark, he could still the way Saruhiko’s eyes widened at that, making the transition from foggy-headed to fully awake. “Misa – ”

“I wouldn’t – I won’t – ” His voice was cracking, but it didn’t matter. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head if you don’t say it! Talk to me, damnit!” He couldn’t summon enough anger to make that a demand rather than a plea. “You – You can’t… just…”

_You can’t just leave me behind again, without saying anything._

The shock was already fading from Saruhiko’s expression even before Yata had finished speaking; his eyes slid shut as the words stuck at the end, and he let out a shuddering sigh. When his lids flickered back up, the flat stubbornness in his gaze was the only warning that came before he reached out and abruptly tugged Yata down.

The move was so unexpected that Yata let out a startled yelp, arms and legs flailing. His head spun uncomfortably, and he was momentarily distracted with trying to catch his breath as Saruhiko rolled them over and trapped him against the bed, covers tangled around his legs and an arm flung over his waist. His boyfriend’s face burrowed into the crook of his neck, prompting another of those embarrassing little squeaks.

“Wh-What the hell?” he blurted out, a now-familiar heat climbing up his neck to reach his cheeks. Saruhiko’s nose was cold, but his breath was warm and it tickled the sensitive skin beneath it, drawing out a shiver. The rush of unexpected sensation was pleasantly distracting. “S-Saru…?”

The arm around his waist tightened in response; one of Saruhiko’s legs wormed around his, decreasing the space between them significantly.

_I guess… that’s my answer?_

Relief was starting to sink in now, washing over all the hurt places within him. The final traces of doubt and anxiety left by the dream were receding; he closed his eyes, feeling the tension ease in his muscles, and wriggled enough to free his arms so that he could wrap them around Saruhiko’s shoulders in return. “You know, most people would just  _say_  something.”

Saruhiko made a small, dismissive-sounding noise, squirming a bit so that he fit comfortably in Yata’s embrace. There was no indication that he planned to move any time in the near future.

 _Well, not like I mind or anything._  It was a bit uncomfortable, but he could live with that. Yata sighed, shifting a little in an attempt to find the best position to settle down in.

His boyfriend’s face was still buried in the crook of his neck, so he almost didn’t catch the faint, muffled, “Don’t leave.”

Something in Yata’s heart swelled – he didn’t really understand Saruhiko, not fully, but he knew enough to be certain that plea had cost him. “I’m not leaving, dumbass,” he responded hotly, and tightened his hold until his arms ached. “Even if I lost all my memories, I would still be here. Even if I died, I’d haunt you for the rest of your life.” He opened his eyes halfway to look down at where their bodies seemed to overlap. “You’re fucking stuck with me, so you’d better get used to it.”

Saruhiko’s shoulders shuddered briefly in his hold. “Idiot,” he mumbled, then sighed audibly, and relaxed.

Yata allowed himself a smile at that. “Who are you calling an idiot, idiot?”

There was no response, but at that point, he didn’t really expect one. The breath against his skin was already beginning to even out, so he closed his eyes again, letting the rhythm pull him back into sleep.

The rest of it could sort itself out.

 

* * *

 

 

It would’ve been really difficult for Saruhiko to sneak out of the bed without disturbing its other occupant, which was probably one of the reasons he was obviously making no effort to even try. Yata’s wake-up call came in the form of an exasperated sigh almost right into his ear, an arm that had been draped over his torso sliding free, and the weight on his now-numb shoulder lifting. He didn’t even register the buzzing of the alarm until his bedmate was already leaning over to shut it off.

 _Is it seriously time to get up already?_  Yata squinted blurrily at the outline of Saruhiko’s T-shirt-clad back as he slid his legs over the edge of the bed and reached out to pick up his glasses from the table beside it. “Saru?” he mumbled, not quite fully awake yet.

Saruhiko paused on the verge of pushing himself up off the bed, turning to regard Yata with typical early-morning irritability. His eyes had bags under them that were notable even with only the faint light from the PDA he’d just turned on. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

Awareness was starting to flood back in, bringing the memory of the night before – well, actually,  _three hours_  before, according to the PDA display – with it. “I would be if you weren’t such a workaholic,” Yata grumbled, pushing himself up onto his elbows in the hopes of clearing the remaining fog from his brain. His injury wasn’t bothering him too much, at least. “Can’t you call in sick or something?”

Seriously, they’d just dealt with some heavy shit last night – that at least should qualify for some quality ‘couple’ time, right?

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, pushing himself to his feet and crossing the room to where his uniform was hanging. “Unlike certain freeloaders I could name, I have a  _limited_  number of sick days – and vacation days too, before you bring it up.” He briskly pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly at the hamper. “If I’m going to ask for two consecutive days off in the future, I won’t be helping my case by calling in now.”

“Huh.” Yata was momentarily distracted by the lines of trim muscle on his boyfriend’s body as he undressed himself, and caught the actual meaning of what he’d said a few seconds late. “Wait, wait, ‘two consecutive days off’? What – ?”

“’ _What_ ’?” Saruhiko repeated, an undisguised edge of condescension in his tone. He’d pulled on his work shirt and was focussing on the buttons without bothering to look back at Yata. “How ridiculous would it be to try and do an overnight trip with just  _one_  day off? I’d either arrive too late to enjoy the evening or have to leave too early to enjoy the morning. Don’t be stupid.”

“What was that?” Yata was pushing himself up to a full sitting position before he’d fully processed that, his hackles raised instinctively. “Say that agai – huh?” The words sunk in; his entire thought process screeched to a halt. “Hold on – you’re actually going to go?”

Two spots of color had risen on Saruhiko’s cheeks, noticeable even in the poor lighting. “It would be a waste not to,” he said, and clicked his tongue irritably, keeping his eyes trained away from the bed as he reached for his pants. “Considering you blew all of your money on those passes like an idiot. I’ll bet they’re not even refundable, are they?”

“Uh…” Yata blinked at him, too surprised to even be annoyed by the ‘idiot’ comment. A small seed of elation had taken root within him.  _He said he’s going to go! That means he actually doesn’t dislike the idea – right?_  “I guess… probably not.”

“Figures.” Saruhiko still wasn’t looking at him, offering a side profile view as he pulled on his trousers with stubborn efficiency. “Planning was never your strong suit, was it, Misaki?”

Somehow, that tone was really irritating. Yata narrowed his eyes, squashing down his excitement in favor of frowning back. “Don’t want to hear it from someone who can’t even take care of himself.”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue at that, pulling on his vest with sharp motions. “I’m not the one who struggled for rent money every month.”

“Heh.” Yata ground his teeth together, the familiar aggravation catching up with him at the reminder. “At least I managed to keep up a balanced diet! Plus, I was doing okay – just because I didn’t have much doesn’t meant I didn’t know how to budget.”

There was an obvious pause; Saruhiko’s fingers stilled where they were doing up the buttons of his vest. “And where do things like hot springs fit into a ‘budget’?” he asked after that moment of hesitation had passed.

Something in his voice had Yata’s nerves on edge.  _We’re not over this yet, huh?_  “I  _had_  a fucking plan for those, dumbass – you just never let me explain it.” He shifted over to the edge of the bed, sliding his legs over the side and crossing his arms as he studied his boyfriend’s rigid back. “I was going to – ”

“Get me to cover the rent,” Saruhiko finished for him – in that hateful, know-it-all drawl again. “Right, Misaki?”

So they had talked about this. Yata scowled at his back, a little miffed by the response. “For a fucking  _week_  until I got paid! Is that seriously what’s crawled up your ass about this whole thing? Should I have asked Kusanagi for a loan instead?”

Saruhiko had picked up his jacket, but went still and rigid somewhere in the middle of that response. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, after a beat of silence, and his fingers clenched noticeably around the fabric in his hands.

 _God, you piss me off…_  Yata unfolded his arms and pushed himself off the bed, narrowing his eyes. “If it doesn’t matter, why the hell do you keep acting like this? You’re the one treating it like a big deal, not me.”

A small, barely visible shudder seemed to go through Saruhiko’s body at that; he turned around, the faint light from his PDA glinting off of his glasses. “It shouldn’t matter,” he mumbled, and then took in a sharp breath and shut his eyes. “It shouldn’t have mattered.”

 _Shouldn’t have?_  Yata frowned, feeling his eyebrows come together in a puzzled knot. He was about ready to demand what the hell that was about when –

_The projected image from his PDA was making him nervous for some reason – which was stupid, because he had no reason to feel nervous calling up his fucking boyfriend, of all people. Yata slumped down onto the couch, hesitating for about the fourth time with his finger hovering near the ‘call’ button._

_He’d told Kamamoto it was no big deal._

_Of course, that was a week ago, and he’d put off asking about the rent because… well, just because, damnit! He had stuff on his mind. And there was never a good time to bring it up._

_But it was really no big deal. Yata scowled at the name on the display, as if he could somehow intimidate the person it belonged to into already knowing what he was going to ask and being totally cool with it. Seriously, they were sleeping together, living together, he did all the goddamn chores, and covering the rent_ one time _and then being paid back later was going to be nothing._

_And there was no particular reason he was doing this over the phone rather than in-person, either. It was all about timing – that was it._

_“Fuck.” This was seriously dumb. He had to ask sooner or later, and the rent was due in just a few days, so… yeah. “Whatever.”_

_Trying not to think too hard about it, he pressed the button._

_The two seconds before Saruhiko picked up were quite possibly the longest two seconds he remembered going through. “Fushimi,” the familiar drawl answered. “Who is this?”_

_That response made his eyebrow twitch. “Fuck you, Saru. Seriously?”_

_“Ah, Misaki.”_ _There was amusement dripping off of those words. “I thought someone might’ve stolen your PDA, seeing as how you’re calling me at work.”_

Fuck, right. _Yata scratched the back of his head, feeling oddly self-conscious. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll be quick.”_

_There was a brief pause on the other end. “What is it?”_

_“Uh.”_ _His stomach was suddenly in knots for no reason at all. Yata squirmed, and forced himself to blurt out, “I kind of need you to maybe, you know… cover my share of the rent this month. Can you?”_

_There. It was out. That wasn’t so bad._

_Silence on the other end. Then, “Why?”_

_It was hard to tell what kind of reaction he was getting just from the tone of voice. “We all chipped in to get something for Kusanagi’s birthday.”_

_Which was the truth… except that Kamamoto had collected the money for that a while ago._ _He’d had to commission the custom coffee table that would replace the one that had been cracked in a bar brawl the previous month, after all. And Yata’s share wasn’t nearly as much money as he’d spent on those passes._

_So, yeah, not a complete lie._

_“Hmm.”_ _Saruhiko drew that hum out. “Now I understand why you wanted to move in together.”_

What the hell? _Yata frowned, raising an eyebrow at his PDA as if his image could be projected through it. “Huh?”_

 _“Easier to be a frivolous spender when someone’s there to pay your bills.”_ _There was an edge somewhere behind that lazy voice. “Isn’t it, Misaki?”_

 _The shock of exactly what Saruhiko had just suggested had a paralyzing effect that Yata couldn’t shake off right at first._ He thinks that I… _The thought didn’t even finish. For that moment, his brain went completely blank – he couldn’t even manage to be angry._

 _It only lasted for a moment._ There’s no fucking way – I must have misheard. _“Wait – what did you just – ?”_

_“Well, I thought something like this would come up sooner or later.” And there was that condescending tone again – the one that always set Yata’s teeth on edge. “Since the first time, I already know how you operate, Misaki. Someone’s importance is based on how much they can do for you… right?”_

_It was a familiar pattern – the anger and hurt packaged in a fucked up present delivered by Saruhiko’s words. Yata had thought maybe he was used to it, at one point. It didn’t even happen that often any more. But this... this…_

He fucking thinks I moved in with him for money.

_“What the fuck – ?” His voice was shaking; there was red around his vision. He tried again. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” The demand came out clear and fierce that time. “We’ve been together this long, and you – you just always…?”_

You just always thought that about me, this whole time?

_He couldn’t finish the thought._

_The telltale click of Saruhiko’s tongue over the phone filled in the silence; neither affirmation nor denial._

_“You’re the worst,” Yata said, low and fervent, feeling his throat clogging up with the mess of emotion triggered by the accusation. “You know what, forget I even asked! I’ll ask for a goddamn advance on my fucking paycheck, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll get a loan somewhere else!”_

_Saruhiko_ _made another sharp ‘tsk’ noise. “Misaki, you just – ”_

_“Go to hell!” he snapped back, and disconnected the call._

_For the first moment, he just sat there, glaring at his wrist, the normally-comforting heat of a red aura glow surrounding him._

He can’t really think that. _Yata lowered his arm, sinking back against the couch as he let his aura dissipate._ After everything… after all this time… _It was just the usual bullshit, right? Saruhiko trying to sabotage his own happiness, because of all the things that went on in his messed up head that Yata could never understand. That was it, wasn’t it? Just… lies._

_Why did it still hurt so goddamn much?_

_He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, willing away the hot prickly feeling at the back of them. No matter how much he thought he knew about Saruhiko’s thoughts and motivations and the cause of his actions, his words still had so much power. Out of all of the important people in Yata’s life, none of them could match the level of anger and love and pain and longing that Saruhiko drew out of him effortlessly._

It’s worse now. _When they weren’t friends, he could mostly block it out. It was still there, festering at the back of his mind like an old, untended sore, but it wasn’t like this. They were together now, closer than ever, and he’d thought everything would be better – and a lot of the time it was – but then something like this happened, and it was a hundred times worse than before._

Sometimes… I just…  _Yata_ _pulled back his hands and pushed himself up off the couch in one swift motion, driven by the need to be taking action – to be doing something that wasn’t sitting around wallowing in this. Asking for that paycheck advance would be a start._  When it’s like this…  _Grabbing his wallet and keys from the counter, he started towards the door._

I wish this last year never happened.

_When he left the apartment, the sound of the door shutting behind him felt ominously final._

The afternoon faded back into early morning; Yata blinked, waiting for that moment of disorientation to pass, and stared at his boyfriend’s shadowed face blankly.

“Welcome back,” Saruhiko murmured, without any real humor. “I take it you remembered something?”

 _Right, ‘something’._  Yata took in a breath and shut his eyes, trying to sort out the mess of emotions that had come back with that particular memory. “You being a fucking dick, as usual,” he managed, shakily.  _I guess that explains why the hell I was at work on my day off._

The whole idea made him feel cold. If fate had been a little more cruel, that argument could have been the last time they’d ever spoken. He could’ve fucking  _died_ , and the last words he would’ve spoken to the person he loved best would’ve been ‘go to hell’.

It had just happened so easily…

_“Forgetting is a shield for when your heart is hurt.”_

Those words made sense now. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. At the time, with the wounds from Saruhiko’s words still so fresh, it had honestly felt like what he’d wanted.

 _It’s not going to end here._  He was sure of that now. As good as things could be between them, there was an awful side that was just as strong. Yata opened his eyes and met Saruhiko’s hooded gaze bleakly. They would keep on hurting each other, whether they meant to or not. They would resent each other. They would get into arguments that felt soul-destroying. Saruhiko would always be halfway anticipating the end somewhere in his messed up head, acting like he didn’t care, and Yata would never give him the magic response that would fix everything, because it didn’t exist.

But, even with all of that… still, somehow…

_… He was lying in a hospital bed, just barely awake and confused as anything. “Misaki,” Saruhiko breathed out, clinging to his hand, eyes sunken and face pale and shaken._

_… Standing in the kitchen, staring at an expression he could only describe as longing. “Idiot,” that familiar low voice chided, “There’s no need to announce that now. I know already.”_

_… Fingers clenched around Saruhiko’s shirt, with that pained, wistful smile just inches away. “I’m already at the meeting point, right now, with nowhere to go.”_

_… The feel of lips barely moving against his throat along with a soft mumble of, “Don’t leave.”_

Still, somehow, it felt worthwhile.

“Hey, dumbass monkey.” He didn’t bother to keep the note of fond exasperation out of his own voice; the way the corners of his mouth were edging up would give him away, regardless. “Who the hell do you think would put up with you just to get a few bills paid? You must be crazy.”

Saruhiko’s eyes widened at that. “Misa – ”

“But then, I’m just as fucking stupid, right?” Yata scratched the back of his head and offered a grin, ignoring the pounding of his heart in favor of going right to it. “Falling in love with an asshole like you.”

The effect that had on his boyfriend’s expression was almost comical. Saruhiko blinked several times in rapid succession, his eyes seeming to go a notch wider with each iteration. His mouth was open as if he’d halted in mid-speech, and he was staring at Yata like he’d never seen him before in his life.

Somehow, it was a bit uncomfortable. Yata shifted awkwardly. “Shit, don’t tell me that’s the first time I’ve said it…” The silence that answered him was telling. “It is, isn’t it?” He could feel his face grow hot, and grimaced, ducking his head a bit and staring up self-consciously. “I guess I should’ve figured out a better way to do it, then…”

That seemed to snap Saruhiko out of his startled trance; he shut his mouth and frowned, meeting Yata’s gaze with a kind of wary bewilderment. “Not really – it’s about what I’d expect from someone at your level.”

He couldn’t help but bristle at that. “What the hell did you s – ?”

“I wouldn’t accept it otherwise, though.” Tossing his coat haphazardly at the bed, Saruhiko closed the distance between them, reaching out unexpectedly to brush Yata’s hair back from his face with cool, slender fingers. The pupils of his eyes seemed to completely swallow the blue around them; at that close distance, it was possible to see the faint waver around the edges. “A well-thought-out confession wouldn’t suit you. Misaki.” The name came out as kind of an exhale against his lips as Saruhiko bent to kiss him.

Yata leaned up into it, the edges of his previous contentment seeping back in through that simple, closed-mouth contact. He reached out impulsively to take Saruhiko’s free hand in his, sliding his fingers in through the gaps. It felt nice.

For now, this was enough.

When they parted, Saruhiko let out a sigh and leaned in to tip his forehead against Yata’s. “I really do have a limited amount of leave,” he muttered, and clicked his tongue. “Can’t be helped, though.”

Yata couldn’t help a little smirk at that, staring up at that resigned expression with his eyes partly lidded. “So you’re staying home today?”

“Like I said, it can’t be helped.” Saruhiko returned his smirk lazily, his gaze somehow smoldering. “This idiot I fell for had to do a confession of love before I’d even finished getting dressed.” He leaned in again, pausing just short of another kiss to add in an undertone, “I don’t see how I have any other choice but to stay home and have mind-blowing sex with him, do you?”

That was enough to send a shiver down his spine – from the promise of sex or the casually tossed-out admission, he wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter.Yata let his eyes flutter shut. “I’m holding you to that, you snarky bastard,” he shot back, and closed the distance between them yet again.

Definitely more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who followed this story through to the end! You are the best!


	8. Extra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little extra is dedicated to PT-chan, who read the entire fanfic over for me before I posted. She commented a few times that with the build-up, she had expected Misaru, so I thought about writing an extra scene just for her. Then skylark in the comments here asked for something similar to what I had in mind, and I figured it was fate. So, here we are - smut with Yata on top, just for you guys! Hope you enjoy!

Muscle memory, Yata had noticed, was way more effective than conscious-thought memory.

At least, that was how it seemed when he had Saruhiko beneath him on the bed, both of them most of the way undressed and with his fingers wandering eagerly over that smooth, pale skin. It was like they were guided by some sort of primal instinct, finding the spots that made his boyfriend writhe and moan without assistance from his (somewhat over-excited) conscious brain.

Saruhiko caught Yata's left hand as he was running the thumb of it over a nipple, and brought it to his lips, eyes raising in a gaze that could probably only be called 'smoldering'.

It was sexy as fuck, and for one confused moment he was caught up in staring back, the fingers of his right hand trembling against Saruhiko's belly. That moist heat he could feel against his palm was working fast to drive him to the point of madness. They were still only at the foreplay stage, and Yata could already feel a tense urgency building in his groin. A lot of the pull came from the echo of his dream from the night before - that tantalizing sample of what it was going to be like to thrust up into his boyfriend's body and watch his face while he did. He had enough intimate familiarity with just how good it felt to be on the receiving end, and he wanted –  _needed_  – to see Saruhiko's reactions to it.

He'd thought about it even before the dream, but really, that was what had led to this.

 

* * *

 

 

Following their reconciliation, Yata had kind of expected to get suddenly flooded with memories - after all, that unpleasant last phone call had been the sticking point, and it just sort of made sense that things would start to flow nicely once it was out of the way. Unfortunately, it didn't exactly happen that way - he had enough to piece together a lot of the past year, and there were things outside of his relationship with Saruhiko that were just kind of hanging out in his head all fully remembered and everything, but the gaps were still there. It was coming back a lot faster now that he had a grasp of the bigger picture, but there were still some things that caught him by surprise.

He wouldn't call waking up from a particular vivid dream where he'd been fucking his boyfriend into the mattress of his own bed a  _surprise_ , exactly... but yeah...

 _I couldn't see his face._  Weirdly enough - well, as weird as it could be with an insistent hard-on demanding his attention - that was the first thought that had entered his head when he'd opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of Saruhiko's bedroom, all alone in that huge bed.

It did kind of make sense, though, considering how turned on he got by visual evidence that his boyfriend wanted him. Yata pushed back the covers and sat up, feeling maybe a little too overheated as he adjusted his boxers and tried to avoid the urge to do something about the result of his dream.  _Saru's_ _going to be back tonight - I can fucking wait, goddamnit!_  His sex drive was out of control these days - hell, they'd done it just last night before going to bed, and here he was like ten hours later, horny as ever.

“Man, seriously,” he muttered, running an agitated hand through his hair. “That stupid monkey turned me into a pervert or something.”

Still, since he’d lost his memories, they hadn’t exactly done it…  _that_  way yet. Like… with him on top. Yata shut his eyes and grimaced, feeling the familiar burn on his cheeks. He knew already that he’d lost his virginity to Saruhiko in every sense, including that one, but with him not remembering anything, it had been easier to just kind of go with the flow.

It wasn’t like being on the bottom wasn’t awesome, because it was.

And it wasn’t like they’d done it  _that_  way every time, either – hell, just last night Saruhiko had gone down on him and that had felt fucking amazing, too. He’d even managed to return the favor, and apparently remembered better than he’d thought because it hadn’t taken long at all and the reactions he’d gotten were… were…

_Shut up, brain – this is not helping._

Right, well. Anyway. The point was, he was a man, and sometimes he wanted to – you know – be the one  _doing_  the screwing.

The question was… with him still not having all his memories, would Saruhiko even let him?

 _I could totally make it good._  Yata frowned down at the mattress, already feeling the slight blow to his pride at the imagined rejection. The dream – memory, rather – he’d just had was kind of incomplete, but he got the just of it. Mostly. He squirmed a bit, contemplating the details.  _Just – I kind of want to do it from the front, so I can see…_

That was a dangerous line of thought.

“Ah, fuck, whatever!” In a rush of mixed embarrassment and restless heat, he pushed himself up off the bed and headed purposefully for the door.  _I’ll just – I’ll just have to convince him. I can do that. He’s my fucking boyfriend; I should be able to turn him on._

For now, though… hopefully a cold shower would take his mind off of this whole subject, because it already felt like it was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m home.”

The sound of Saruhiko’s familiar, lazy greeting had Yata hitting the pause button on his game almost before he’d gotten the whole phrase out. “Welcome back.” He turned on the couch, leaning one elbow over the back so he could look his boyfriend in the face as he finished removing his boots and came into the main part of the apartment.

His heart was probably going a mile a minute. Seriously. That stupid dream hadn’t left his head all day. Just the sound of Saruhiko’s voice had given him a little twinge, and now, watching him pull off that stupid blue jacket, the familiar coil of anticipation was already building in his gut.

 _This shouldn’t be hard, right?_  There was no reason why his hands should feel clammy all of a sudden. There shouldn’t be dread mixing around with the excitement in his chest, either. After all, it was just Saru.

Just the love of his goddamn life; no big deal – right?

_Fuck…_

“Spacing out again?” When he brought his focus back, Saruhiko had an eyebrow quirked at him. “Seems like you’re making a habit of that, Misaki.”

Okay. Whatever. This was fine. He could… he could shake this off. Yata set down the controller and scrambled off the couch. “Y-Yeah, well…” What would be a good response? “You try getting cracked on the head and having to get back a year’s worth of memories, and see how well you do.”

The frown on his boyfriend’s face was gaining a suspicious edge as he approached. “What are you after this time?”

“Nothing!”  _Except your ass._  And – there it was – he was definitely blushing now. Yata scowled against his embarrassment, meeting Saruhiko’s gaze defiantly. “Wh-What makes you so sure I’m after something?”

“Who knows.” That breezy know-it-all tone came along with a pair of raised eyebrows; Saruhiko sighed, deftly sidestepping him as he headed for the bathroom. “I’m having a shower before dinner.”

Yata stared after him, mildly disgruntled with the way that had gone.  _What the fuck is even wrong with me? We’re dating, so why isn’t this easy?_  It really shouldn’t be that hard to say ‘hey, let’s have sex – I’m on top, okay?’

Maybe not in those exact words, but whatever – same idea.

The bathroom door had already been shut firmly; after a moment of silence, he could hear the sound of the shower running.

 _Saru’s_ _in the shower._  It was an innocent enough thought – at first. But his over-sexed brain wasn’t merciful enough to let it end there. Yata could feel another rush of heat roll up his neck and over his face as the inevitable mental image wormed its way into his head: Saruhiko was in the shower, naked and wet.

Just beyond that door.

He swallowed hard, wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his shorts, and stared at the offending piece of wood with some uncertainty.  _Showering together… could be a thing, right?_  It should be okay – they had sex pretty much every day, when they weren’t at each other’s throats (and probably even when they were, sometimes). Surprising your lover in the shower was a totally acceptable ‘couples’ thing to do. Hell, they’d probably already done it a few times, and he just couldn’t remember.

_Right, yeah, I’m going for it._

Decision made, Yata marched up to the door, reached for the handle, and –

Locked.

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_  Yata scowled at the door. He was starting to feel like a bit of an idiot. Of course Saruhiko would lock him out. Why would that fussy bastard allow fun things like being surprised in the shower if he could possibly prevent it?  _He probably did it just to piss me off._

The thought didn’t do much to ease his mind. Yata rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling awkward and unsure – and a little irritated about it. Somehow, the clear and obvious evidence that his boyfriend had boundaries he was unaware of was a hard hit to his confidence. What else did he not know about that might be a deal breaker?

 _Could just ask him._  Yeah, just like he ‘could’ just ask if tonight was his turn on top. Words were hard.

With one last anxious glance at the bathroom door, Yata sighed, gave up, and headed into the kitchen. At least he could put together a couple of plates for them or something. It might calm his nerves a bit.

Probably not, but it was worth a try, anyway.

Saruhiko came out of the bathroom as he was setting the plates down on the table – complete with what was probably the smallest towel they owned wrapped around his waist. Yata licked his lips without thinking, and reminded himself that he was allowed to look. They were screwing each other silly, he saw this sight all the time, and there was no reason it should cause him to have a heart attack now.

 _Fuck, I just…_  His eyes followed the motion of his boyfriend’s body as he strolled leisurely from the bathroom to his bedroom, taking in every sinewy line greedily.  _I want to… to do things to him, damnit! Why is this still so hard?_

He slumped forward in his seat after Saruhiko had passed, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath and resisting the urge to take a faceplant into his food. This was seriously aggravating – they’d been dating for a goddamn year, even if he didn’t remember all of it; when did all of this stupid stuff become easy?

With his luck, probably never.

It was only a minute or so later when Saruhiko re-emerged from his room, in a T-shirt and shorts, his damp hair hanging flat around his head. He raised an eyebrow when he took in the two plates laid out on the table. “Since when do you serve takeout?”

“Since now, okay?” Yata scowled back, too wound up to let that pass. “Are you going to eat it, or do you just want to stand there and make snarky comments?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frowning right back, but he moved in and sat down just the same. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or am I supposed to guess?”

It was a fair enough question, but it still caught him off-guard somehow. Yata turned his gaze off to the side, embarrassment and awkwardness warring for dominance in his brain. “It’s – ” He glanced up again, caught his boyfriend’s familiar half-bored frown, and completely lost whatever nerve he’d summoned up. “I’ll tell you after dinner,” he muttered instead, feeling his cheeks burn as he turned a scowl down at his food.

He could feel Saruhiko’s eyes on him, sharp as ever, but there was no comment.

 _This stupid ‘relationship’ business is so fucking overrated._  You could go through hell and back with someone, tell them you love them, confess your deepest fears… and still, somehow, asking to do something specific in the goddamn bedroom was awkward.

It was so not fair.

They ate in a kind of half-wary silence, which Yata was too frustrated and preoccupied to try and break. Across from him, Saruhiko ate slowly – the only sign that he wasn’t completely unconcerned was the barely visible tension in his shoulders.

That was enough to stir up an unwanted little spark of guilt. Yata half-heartedly shoveled some of the food into his mouth, eyeing his boyfriend in what he hoped was a not-very-noticeable manner. The T-shirt had a loose neckline, and strands of damp hair were clinging to his skin, so there were a few beads of water trickling down along the line of his neck and collecting somewhere along his collarbone. For a moment, that was mesmerizing enough to capture Yata’s full attention; he followed the slow slide of one particular drop down, losing his earlier train of thought entirely.

He’d done something like it before, so it was easy to imagine now: leaning forward and running his tongue up over that warm skin, feeling it shift and relax under his attention. And maybe Saruhiko would let out one of those shuddering sighs and melt against him, and –

“I’m done.”

Yata blinked several times in rapid succession, startled out of his fantasy by the bland announcement – and the shift in his visual as Saruhiko moved to stand up from the table, taking his half-empty plate with him.

 _Shit – how long was I – ?_  It was almost too embarrassing to finish the thought. Yata snatched up his own plate and followed his boyfriend into the kitchen, a little flustered at how easily he’d lost focus. That dream was still messing with him – he was sure of it. The thought of Saruhiko underneath him, responding to his touch with squirming and little sounds of pleasure, like he just couldn’t help himself…

Was he seriously the only one who had this problem? Yata frowned at Saruhiko’s back as he washed off his dish in the sink, feeling more than a little self-conscious about it. Somehow, it always seemed like Saruhiko had perfect control – but then, he’d always been like that. Was it because he didn’t think about sex as much as Yata? He always seemed more than eager when they did it, even initiated things a lot of the time, but he never had those moments when he zoned out, either.

 _Fucking asshole and his self-control…_ For once, he would’ve liked to know exactly what his boyfriend was thinking. Unfortunately, that was probably an impossible dream.  _Goddamnit_ _…_

“I’m going to go read in my room.” Saruhiko slid the dish into the rack and turned without looking back. His voice was neutral and even.

It didn’t take a genius to catch the meaning there – Yata grimaced, fingers tightening around the plate in his hands.  _Shit._

He’d barely felt the first little twinge of frustration when Saruhiko halted, not quite out of the kitchen, and added, in a soft, reluctant mutter, “I’ll leave the door open.”

It wasn’t much of a concession, but – well – considering who it was coming from…

Somehow, it did a lot to restore his courage.

Without stopping to think it over – seriously, thinking was overrated; wasn’t that what had gotten him into this mess in the first place? – Yata dropped his plate in the sink, strode forward, and caught the back of his boyfriend’s shirt. “Wait.”

The body in front of him stilled. “Misaki?”

_Screw it._

He leaned his forehead against Saruhiko’s shoulder, wrapping both arms around that slender waist, and managed to mutter, “I just,” before his throat closed up. He cleared it, and pressed on before he could lose his nerve again, blurting the rest in a rush. “I just really want to fuck you right now, all right?”

There was a moment of startled silence, and Yata found himself holding his breath, bracing himself for… what? He wasn’t sure. Mockery? Reluctance? Instant and complete denial?

“Ah.” He could feel the muscles near his face relax. “All right.”

That was it? ‘All right’? Yata let out his breath in a rush, too surprised to let it properly sink in. “Seriously?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “What nonsense have you got yourself all worked up over this time, Misaki?” He slid a hand along Yata’s arm, letting his fingers trail around the wrist before brushing up lightly along the ridge of knuckles. “You know it’s not the first time.”

“Yeah, I know, just…” His worries seemed kind of silly now. Yata leaned in to press against his boyfriend’s back, feeling the heat building between them. “This is all really awkward, okay?”

He got a dismissive snort in response to that. “You’re the one who’s really awkward.”

“Shut up.” It was starting to hit him that this was really going to happen – he was going to get to have his way with Saruhiko now, just like in his dream. Yata felt his heart rate increase, and slid his head down to mouth at the prominent line of shoulder blade through the thin fabric of the shirt between them. “Let’s go to your room.”

“Impatient as ever.” The light, easy tone was countered by the hot, lidded gaze that came with it as Saruhiko pulled forward and turned to face him. “Well, I guess that’s part of your charm, isn’t it, Misaki?”

It was hard to tell if it was supposed to be a compliment when he put it like that.  _Well, whatever._  Yata let his mouth curve up into a smirk, meeting his boyfriend’s gaze with equal heat. “Can’t help it with you,” he admitted, voice low.

The desire that flooded those cool blue eyes in response pretty much made up for the rest of the evening to that point.

 

* * *

 

 

Shaking off his earlier paralysis, Yata slid his hand from Saruhiko’s mouth,  bracing it between his head and the pillow instead and leaning down to capture his boyfriend’s lips in an insistent kiss.  _I’m like this because of you,_  he wanted to say, aggressively engaging his tongue and feeling another little spike of desire as he was matched with at least equal intensity.  _I want you so bad – you can feel it, right?_

“Mm.” Saruhiko hummed against his lips, eyes half-closed as he mumbled out, “You’re… eager tonight, Misaki.” That breathy edge that Yata had come to expect in the heat of the moment was in his voice.

It was a turn-on – like everything else, at that point. “I’ve been,” Yata started, and then was interrupted by a startled moan as Saruhiko’s hands slid past the waistband of his boxers, pulling him down flush against the body beneath him and giving his ass a firm squeeze. “Ah – thinking about it. All day.”

“Mm.” There was an unmistakably pleased note in the sigh that came as Yata began nipping and sucking his way down that pale-skinned neck. Sometimes he had to wonder if they didn’t share the same intense desire to be lusted after. “Another dream?”

He was getting the sense that it was time to step this up – although he couldn’t have said where that thought came from. Impressions from his still-clouded memories, maybe? “Yeah,” he breathed out against the curve of shoulder beneath his lips, and slid the tips of his fingers along and just under the elastic of his boyfriend’s underwear, drawing out a shiver of anticipation. It only took a small motion from his hips to rub their clothed erections together, and the sharp intake of breath he got in response was enough to trigger a low moan from the back of his throat. “Fuck, Saru… Can I… ?”

Saruhiko’s slender fingers pulled back and curled around the waistband of his boxers; Yata backed off a ways to allow him to shimmy them down over his cock. “You know where the lube is,” he murmured in response to the half-voiced question, and offered a slow, lazy smirk.

It was probably the fastest Yata had ever fumbled a drawer open in his life.

He was pretty sure it was mostly excitement causing his hands to tremble when he slid the condom on, although there was probably more than a small amount of nervousness mixed in. Saruhiko made one of those little sounds that he remembered from his dream when he pushed a slicked finger in past the ring of muscle, and that, combined with the tight heat that closed around it when he slowly moved deeper, had his dick twitching impatiently.

Yata swallowed, glancing up at his boyfriend’s flushed face. “This okay?”

“Aren’t you – ah – the impatient one here?” Saruhiko squirmed as he curled his finger experimentally, but met his gaze with a kind of heated condescension. “Just keep going.”

He took in a sharp breath at that, pulling back. “Don’t forget that you asked for it.”

Having been through it himself helped, honestly; Yata was pretty familiar with the strangeness and the stretch, and it gave him more confidence when he pushed in again with two fingers, sliding them in deep and scissoring while Saruhiko tensed and then adjusted. The glimpses he was stealing of his boyfriend’s face and body as they reacted to him weren’t helping at all to ease the pull of his own desire, but he just couldn’t help himself.

_He’s so goddamn sexy…_

“It’s… good already, Misaki,” Saruhiko said breathily, shortly after he’d eased three fingers in. “Do it.”

Yata wasn’t about to argue with that; he slid his fingers out and spread a generous amount of lube over the condom, shutting his eyes for a moment against the little spike of pleasure that came when he closed his hand around himself. “Just – tell me if it hurts,” he managed, moving forward to position himself with one hand while bracing the other against the inside of his boyfriend’s thigh.

“Yeah.” It sounded more than a little flippant; though, to be fair, Yata definitely hadn’t ever bothered to say anything when he was the one on his back. There was something about being too turned on to care about low-level pain that made it almost erotic, in a weird way.

Seriously, he couldn’t wait to see what Saruhiko looked like when he felt it.

With that thought fresh in his mind, Yata pushed in, going slow through the initial resistance and shutting his eyes against the rush of sensation as the tight heat of his boyfriend’s body closed around his cock. For a moment, it was so good he could hardly think, and he had to bite down hard on his lower lip to avoid the strong urge to thrust forward and race to early completion.

 _It’s like he’s pulling me in._  “Fuck,” he managed to gasp, tightening his grip on Saruhiko’s leg reflexively. “Fuck… Saru…”

“Misaki…” There was a bit of a whine in that response; Yata opened his eyes and looked up without thinking, taking in the sight he’d been waiting for. Saruhiko’s eyes were closed, lips parted, flush spread all across his face and even to his ears. His shoulders were tense, and his fingers clenched in the sheets.

Hot as hell. “Saru,” Yata breathed out again, leaning in further as he buried himself in that welcoming heat. It felt really, really good – holy shit. And the look on that face…

He wanted more. Way more. “I’m – I’m going to move. Okay?”

Saruhiko’s eyes opened just a fraction at that, and he met Yata’s gaze squarely. “You don’t… have to keep asking.”

“Hah.” It came out as more of a reverential exhalation than a properly snarky response – but at that point, it really didn’t matter. He planted an impulsive but lingering kiss on his boyfriend’s knee, and let the corners of his mouth edge up in a small smirk. “Okay.”

The first retreat and thrust had them both gasping at the initial spike, but the motions were familiar enough, lack of conscious memory or no, and the steady, give-and-take rhythm of sex came more easily as he moved. The result of a  _lot_  of practice, Yata noted vaguely, focused on keeping himself controlled as he changed the angle in search of the magic spot that would give him the reaction he was after. He brushed a hand over Saruhiko’s cock in a light parody of a hand job, watching with heated fascination as his boyfriend writhed in response, letting out an erotic little moan.

It was getting harder to hold himself back; the dual impact of visual and physical stimulation was fraying at the edges of Yata’s self-control. He wanted –  _really_  wanted – to thrust in hard and fast, bury himself to the hilt in Saruhiko’s body and come – but even as it became harder to hold onto rational thought, one thing still rang clearly through his head: he wanted to see  _all_  of it. Everything.

_I can’t ever get enough of him._

The thought had barely entered his head when he finally found the right spot, with one of Saruhiko’s knees hooked loosely over his shoulder and the other leg pushed up a little higher under Yata’s lube-slicked right hand. The results were immediate and electrifying; Saruhiko let out an inarticulate noise and arched up from the bed, twisting the sheets hard in his hands as his face contorted.

“Mi – Misaki… there… ah…”

That was enough to tip Yata over his breaking point; the site of that familiar face with such a desperate, wanton expression, eyes half-lidded and needy as they locked with his, was too much for his frazzled brain. “Saru,” he gritted out, fighting the urge to shut his eyes as he thrust in hard, the edges of his vision blurring out as pleasure clouded his senses.

Even with that, it only took a few of those rough, frenzied motions before Saruhiko tensed up beneath him and came with a strangled-sounding cry, his whole body twitching against and around Yata, face red, mouth open, eyes dark and clouded. And with all of that stimulation, Yata’s own race towards orgasm ended abruptly with one last, frantic push; the world fractured around him and he shuddered, releasing within Saruhiko’s body and trembling violently in the wake of that rush.

The moment of stillness that followed was broken by the uneven sound of both of them trying to catch their breath.

Rational thought started to drift back into his brain at about the same point when Yata felt the sweat cooling his body. He pulled back on habit, and just barely remembered to catch the edges of the condom as he did, so he could tie it off and toss it into the bin near the bed. Beneath him,Saruhiko seemed to have become about as boneless as Yata felt; his legs slid back down against the bed as soon as he was released, and he was breathing heavily, eyes closed, the hint of a little smile playing on his lips.

It was an endearing look – although Yata was starting to suspect that he had a pretty strong bias on that front. “Was that… ?” He let that hang, flopping down on the bed beside his boyfriend, and reaching out with one hand to absently brush those sweaty dark bangs off his face. “It was good, right?”

Saruhiko’s lids lifted about halfway, and he regarded Yata with a kind of satiated exasperation. One of his hands ran lazily over the mess on his stomach; he raised his fingers and shifted his gaze to them, then back again. “I think this speaks for itself, don’t you?”

His post-orgasm haze was too good for that to spark any irritation. Yata smiled back instead, feeling more than a little pleased with himself. “Just checking.”

He got an amused-sounding hum as his response. “And how did that match up with your dream?” Saruhiko murmured, reaching out with his free hand to brush his knuckles lightly along Yata’s cheekbone.

“The usual.” He caught those fingers in his own, and shut his eyes, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket. “Way fucking better.”

There was just no substitute for the real thing, after all.


End file.
